


(The Story of Our Lives is) Intertwined

by Diana_Prallon



Series: Where thy treasure is, there thou heart will be also [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, And Then Some, And by Narnia I mean he doesn't even know where the closet is anymore, And by closeted I mean in Narnia, Angst, Character Death, Closeted Character, Community: paperlegends, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gaius/Alice - Freeform, Gwen/Lancelot - Freeform, Kid Fic, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Minor pairings - Freeform, Modern Royalty, Morgause/Cendred, Multi, Not Arthur or Merlin though, Paperlegends 2013, Romance, THAT DEEP, Teenage Parents, Teenage Rebellion, and etc, broken marriages, cast of thousands, paperlegends, papparazzi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin thought his story was done - the perfect picture was already taken. He <i>was living</i> in the Happily Ever After, with everything it entailed: a happy marriage, five amazing and imperfect children, a friendly ex-wife, fantastic friends and a woman that never failed to surprise him. </p><p>He would never have thought it would all fall apart faster than a camera snaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I should warn you that this whole story was deeply inspired by BBC's Single Father miniseries and somewhat by John Green's Looking for Alaska novel - although it bears very little resemblance to either in the end. 
> 
>  
> 
> I would like to thank, of course, The Muppet and her amazing work, that allowed it all to come to life - and for bear with me when I can't seem to remember the correct dates. I'd also like to thank my cheerleader ascended to beta, diana065, and my eaten by real life artist, ragless - their patience with my ranting about things that wouldn't even show up on the story and so helped more than I can say. Of course, I can't finish such paragraph without thanking Dark K. for all the long hours she spent with me IM'ing as I wrote, sharing bits and pieces and generally allowing me to freak out online or rage on the phone as we should be working in our class plannings, EVEN IF SHE DOESN'T EVEN WATCH MERLIN. She's that amazing, and I own her more than what is easily explained by words. Also, I should give my special thanks to my cousin who stuck with me until the early hours of the morning last friday/saturday as I tried to figure out how, exactly, I was going to finish it in time (I didn't, but there's just a couple scenes missing) and where I was heading when the whole thing decided to write itself unlike I had planned in the beginning. Last, but not least, I feel that I should thank my husband and child for putting up with me through all this, even if they don't get it/won't even see this.

It was like a clogged engine, as If something had gotten stuck between the gears – everything slowed down suddenly, and time seemed to stop.

Maybe it had indeed stopped; it wouldn’t be the first time.

All that there was left was Merlin’s breath, deep and even as he tried and failed to adjust the settings of his camera.

“I love you”

It was like a whisper, a faint echo of the reality of his wife’s voice, always so full of life.

Merlin could feel a soft brush in his cheek, as when she tried to make up after a fight, and it made his heart clench just a bit.

“I love you too” he replied, in his mind, wondering why Morgana had gone through all the effort of communicating with him like that when it wasn’t an emergency.

They’d have time to apologize, to make up, and to make things right. They’d have all night, as she had already said she would ask Morgause to pick the children up, and even if that failed, they’d still have many days, months, years of their lives to remember each other of their love, that domestic quarrels were inevitable, but no reason to give up.

As everything rushed back into place, he pressed the button, only to be rewarded with a loud click and the smell of smoke indicating that the camera had given up in his hands, fusing after the contact with such a large amount of magic.

Merlin looked at the two toddlers crying and the parents that failed to keep them quiet long enough for a good shot. He sighed.

“Let’s take a break”, he said, gesturing to them. “I’ll have to change cameras anyway.”

There was a grateful nod from the mother as she pick up one of the children, relieved as if the whole thing hadn’t been her idea in the first place.

Merlin felt a void in the place Morgana’s presence had made itself felt – as he always did after such rare contacts – but stronger than usual, as if their recent arguments had made him miss her more.

Well, he would make sure to show her exactly how much he loved and cherish her later.

* * *

 

On the other side of the city, Morgana was closing her eyes for the very last time.


	2. 2 days earlier

Merlin felt a bit dizzy as he unlocked the door. He shouldn’t have allowed Will to drag him into that last drink; he knew well enough that Merlin couldn’t hold his liquor. And Lance! What a false friend! He had only chuckled as he dropped Merlin in front of his house and left him completely alone to face his wife’s (possible) anger.

The man tried not to make much noise as he walked inside, but even on his best days he was hopelessly clumsy. Tonight, the stairs seemed to be dancing polka in order to make sure that he’d never reach the second floor – but, maybe, this wasn’t just an impression or a figure of speech; maybe Morgana _had_ enchanted the stairs. He wouldn’t put it past her to _actually do it_ , especially if she was mad at him.

Merlin honestly hoped it wasn’t the case.

He tried to take it one step at a time, climbing it slowly. It worked well enough for the first flight of stairs, but he tripped as soon as he reached the third step of the second flight, and landed painfully on his knees and elbows. It took just a few seconds for the first door on the right to open, showing his wife (at least she hadn’t been asleep). Morgana was already in her nightgown and seemed to find his misfortune funny – well, she would.

“Good night, hem?”

“Shhh” complained Merlin, wincing as he tried to stand up. “You’ll wake up the children.”

“If they didn’t wake with the amount of noise you just did, I doubt they’ll wake with anything short of an atomic explosion.”

“It wasn’t that loud!” whined Merlin.

“It really was”, said a new, younger, voice. “And it is still too loud. Can’t you just talk in your own bedroom?”

Enmyria, Morgana’s eldest daughter, was clearly showing some powerful temper (probably inherited from her mother). That, combined with the terrible teenager moods, made her suddenly unpleasant. Merlin knew it would pass soon enough, but Morgana’s face darkened as she turned to the girl, whose golden hair was falling in front of her eyes  and her nose was clearly turned up in disgust; an expression he knew the mother would be mirroring even though he couldn’t see her face.

“You,  young lady, should be sleeping.”

“I was trying” answered the teenager, angrily. “But it is quite hard with all the bumping and you speaking in the corridor!”

“You weren’t asleep” answered her mother, angrily. “Of all the children, you’re the one that has the heaviest sleep; if you were sleeping, nothing would have woken you.”

“If I had managed to get there before all the noise, yes, but I _didn’t_ , thanks to _you_!”

Enmyria walked back inside her room, shutting the door with some anger. Morgana moved towards her bedroom, but Merlin stopped her with a gesture.

“Just let it go.”

“Have you heard…” she started, but he shook his head.

“I’ve seen a teenager acting like a teenager. It’s not nice but… It’s not worth the trouble.”

“I have been there not ten minutes ago and she was still at her computer” Morgana said, frowning.

“Just leave her” advised Merlin, with a small smile. “Just… Go to bed”.

There was an unmistakable promise in his tone, which always made Morgana smirk and tilt her head, flirty.

“Aren’t _you_ coming?”

“I am” he guaranteed, smiling. “I’m just going to check on the children first.”

The woman pretended to be offended.

“Oh, of course. You go and check on them. I’m absolutely unable to put them to bed without you.”

“You know you are” answered Merlin, grinning and walking to the first door on the left.

“I’ll show you just how _able_ I am in a few minutes” she said, walking back inside their bedroom and closing the door shut as he walked inside. Freya, their youngest, was fast asleep, her mouth slightly open and drooling a little as she clung to her toy bunny. Reassured that everything was ok, he closed the door and moved to the following door on the left side of the corridor, that led to Tristan’s room. His middle son was active even in his sleep, his arms and legs spread wide and his covers kicked off. Merlin knew he’s miss them later, so he took the trouble of covering him all over again.

His eldest son’s bedroom was across the hallway. If Mordred had known he was there, he would have said he was too old for this kind of thing, but, of course, he didn’t even stir. He was curled on his side, as he usually was, but still he managed to look relaxed – the only time in which he ever looked like that, for he was always under a rigorous control. He slept silently, and Merlin walked away.

The third door on the right was Enmyria’s, and he knocked on the door before stepping inside his step-daughter’s room. The girl was in her bed, her iPod next to her, but she took off the earplug to talk to him.

“I’m sorry that I woke you” he said, softly. “I didn’t mean to. I just…”

Merlin shrugged and she shook her head.

“It’s _fine_ , dad”.

Enmyria clearly knew her outburst had been unreasonable, for she only called him “dad” when she thought she was – or ought to be – in trouble. He smiled softly at her.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Before heading to his own bedroom, Merlin took the trouble to close up the bathroom’s door across Enmyria’s room. Morgana was already under the covers again as he walked in, but her bedside light was on.

“Did you at least have a good time?” she asked, looking at him.

“Yes” he said, sitting down to take off his shoes. “At least until Will managed to make me take that last pint!”

Morgana snorted, she was used to his best friend’s antics.

“Kara called” she said then. “I asked her to drive the children to Gaius and Alice tomorrow, and she said it was ok.”

“I’ll never understand why you call them ‘Gaius and Alice’” said Merlin, slurring a bit. “They’re your parents!”

Morgana just looked at him, clearly amused.

“Yeah, except, they are not – not really. Anyway, she said she’ll take them and she’ll take Kay too.”

Merlin stared at her for a second, trying to understand it all – his eldest daughter, Kara, was about to drive his other children to Morgana’s parents’ and take his grandchild with them – Kay was almost three now; but it still felt odd to think of himself as a grandfather – some of his mates didn’t even have children yet, and he felt as if was already an old man before his forties.

“It’s a good opportunity” his wife went on as he undressed. “Kara says he’s been having some… magical outbursts. She actually called to get some advice from _dad_ about it; since she doesn’t trust her mother to know as much as you.”

“Yeah… Mithian doesn’t know… No magic in Mithian… And… Toddlers are…” he didn’t even know what to say. “…difficult to control.”

“I _know_ ” said Morgana. “I _did_ have four at home, you know?”

Merlin snorted and got into bed, and Morgana turned off the light. He pulled her close, and she snuggled him promptly.

“That’s the best part of coming back home” he said.

“What?” she asked, and he could feel her smiling against his skin.

“Lying next to you, of course” he said, and there was a tone of humor when she replied.

“Oh, really? It doesn’t look like it – after all, you _do_ steal my covers every night and make my feet cold!”

“I’m sorry!” said the man, laughing. “I can’t even understand why you cover them.”

“Because, Merlin, not all of us are human furnaces!” was her indignant reply.

Merlin laughed, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, and his smile got a soft quality as he saw her – because Morgana was beautiful, even when he could hardly see her, and he could never believe how _lucky_ he was to have all that in his life – this companionship, this understanding, such a woman…

“Come here, you” he said, pulling her even closer and kissing her passionately.

Soon, everything else had been forgotten but the urge of the moment that had never wavered; in all things he was clumsy, but not in this, not with her – he could think of nothing but the delight that seemed to spread through him as their bodies adjusted to each other and moved in synchrony – it was just _perfect_ , in all its imperfections, and he didn’t wish for anything else; not even better; just _this_.

Morgana made him happy.

* * *

 

Any moment after 6 am was a moment of activity in the Emrys household. Freya was an early riser, and she often found her way to her parents’ bedroom shy of 7 AM, even on Saturdays. She would walk inside, and talk, and ask things, and completely ignore the fact that they were sleeping – or worse, she wouldn’t come near them, but would try and make them breakfast and the loud bumps and eventual explosions in the kitchen were sure to wake Merlin and Morgana up. At six, Freya was still too young to be anywhere near efficient in such tasks and her still unpolished magic meant that she would often break things while trying to make them work.

Of course, once the buzz started, the rest of the kids would soon be up. Mordred often got to the kitchen before his parents and tried to solve as much of the problems as he could, chiding Freya and urging her to wake _him_ up when she wanted to eat and let the grownups sleep a bit longer; Tristan was soon behind and the noise of the three talking children (and the arguments that never ceased to spring between the two boys) would raise a dead man from his eternal sleep. Often it all ended with Enmyria yelling at them that she would like to sleep and Morgana telling her daughter off for her behaviour towards the younger children.

Merlin had never been an early riser – Freya was the only of his children that found the early morning the perfect time to be up and about. He was always the one that suffered the most from getting up when the noise started, while Morgana was quick in getting dressed, fixing breakfast and walking around – she had always been a light sleeper.

Her husband almost always tried to hide under the pillows and moaned about being a true servant of His Majesty, The Children. Freya always giggled when she heard it, Morgana would smirk and he would slowly get out of bed, looking completely miserable as he walked to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

As he reached the kitchen on that Saturday, Merlin was greeted by the usual mayhem of flying cups and plates as Tristan and Mordred set the table for breakfast. Enmyria was preparing some pancakes while Freya tried to help her mother to set the milk and other beverages ready.

“Use your hands” said Merlin to the boys as if it were ‘good morning’.

“No one is around” complained Tristan, but soon Morgana’s voice was heard.

“Do as your father says!”

The boys went back for the rest of the china mumbling, and as they came back, Merlin held them under their arms – it was a never ending fight for balance between the sternness such matters demanded and the natural empathy of someone who knew too well how deeply frustrating it was to deny a part of who you were – and spoke.

“We can never truly know who is watching. Magic may not be forbidden, but it is certainly disliked by the authorities – no one trusts a warlock. You know this.”

“You have said it all before” agreed Mordred, but he still looked sullen. He had an amazing amount of raw power, far more than his siblings, even though they were all particularly gifted.

“I know it is frustrating” continued Merlin as Enmyria came into the dining room with the pancakes and they finally were ready to eat.  “Believe me, I feel it too, but we can never be too careful. You can do as much magic as you want once you arrive at your grandparents”

The boys nodded, it was a common conversation in the house. Morgana had been raised in a country house, retired from the views of other people and had enjoyed a liberty in trying herself and her powers in a way that wasn’t common in the magical community. Her adoptive parents, Gaius and Alice, had planned it to be a safe haven for the children they took home.  Merlin, on the other hand, had always lived in cramped cities, and knew too well the damage that even the suspicion of being magical could bring. She would often forget to ask them for discretion within the house, but he never did – he would never forget that he had believed himself quite alone and unwatched when his oldest friend, Will, had seen him levitating dishes towards the sink through the kitchen window. The shock and the suspicion had taken a long time to wear off.

Still, being told off didn’t break the boys good spirits – Tristan started talking about his upcoming football match and Freya spoke of the beans they had planted that week at school while Enmyria checked Facebook on her smartphone under her mother’s continuous complains that she should never have allowed her to have a cellphone and Enmyria’s claims that she was no longer a child and, therefore, the rule to no-phones no longer applied.

As they started to take the dirty dishes to the kitchen, the bell rang and Mordred ran to answer it. Soon afterwards Freya was screaming in delight to find her young nephew in the house, alongside with Merlin’s ex-wife.

“Kara asked me to drive them” announced Mithian with a smile. Morgana merely looked at her and nodded, ordering the boys to pick up their things. Merlin walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“I had asked _her_ to take them over” he complained, but if Mithian heard his tone, she ignored it completely.

“She had other things to do and I’m glad to take the children to Gaius and Alice’s house.”

“If she couldn’t do it, she should have told me, we’d have asked Morgause to take them there; she had no business to bother you with it!”

Morgana gave Merlin a look that clearly meant that she was in no mood to hear an argument between the two of them and helped Freya with the pink boots she favoured while the girl prattled on about how she would show Kay the ducks. Tristan was the first to be back in the hallway, with his backpack in his hand, Mordred close on his heels.

“Are you ready?” asked Mithian, kindly.

Morgana took Freya and Kay by their hands and walked with them to the door.

“You don’t need to bring them back, Morgause and Cendred are going over later and they’ll drive the children back – I’ll ask them to drop Kay too.”

“As you wish” replied the woman, civilly. “Enmyria isn’t coming?”

“She has _plans_ ” said Morgana, rolling her eyes.

“Teenagers” agreed Mithian, with a smile. “Kara was much the same when she was her age.”

A moment of embarrassed silence followed this comment, Morgana’s eyes were immediately drawn to Kay and although she tried to hide it, the same thing crossed all of their minds.

“Let’s hope not _too_ much alike” added the woman, with a small smile. “Hopefully she learned enough from seeing my daughter’s mess to avoid the same mistakes.”

Merlin gave a hollow laugh at this, and Mithian lost no time in taking the children to the car. Soon the house was completely silent – a very rare circumstance. Morgana picked up her material and started to work on the subjects she needed to know for the test she was scheduled to take on Monday; Enmrya was shut up in her own bedroom and after doing the dishes (with just a little bit of magic), Merlin went to the shed to work on the eggs he would need for the setting of his next photo shoot.

* * *

 

Merlin had finished with the egg-making and was now revising some of the pictures he had to deliver during the week when Morgana walked inside the shed, her face clearly nervous.

“Do you think Mithian has a point?” she asked, out of nowhere. “Do you think Em is much like Kara was... at her age?”

Merlin frowned at that.

“I think you should be studying” he replied, eventually, knowing too well his wife’s ability to procrastinate.

“I’m serious!” said Morgana, twisting her right fingers with her left hand. “They have been together a lot lately... When Kara visits, they shut themselves up...”

He couldn’t say anything to that, save the obvious.

“Yes, they are girls. They are close in age. Kara may be a bit older, but... They like the same things.”

That didn’t help Morgana to feel better, he could see it in her eyes.

“Kara is a grownup – Enmyria is just a girl! Kara... She’s an adult, she’s _a mother_ , she’...”

“Still very silly” interrupted the man, smiling at his wife. “I wish it was not, and I love her, but she’s still a girl in many ways.”

“Do you think they’ve been talking about boys?” asked the woman, her voice filled with tension.

“What if they are?” was the answer, Merlin was truly amused. “You probably did at their age. And I think Em is smart enough to learn from Kara’s mistakes. I think you’re overreacting – just like you did when Kara got pregnant.”

“You weren’t any better!” accused Morgana, her hands in her hips. “You _yelled_ at her and you don’t ever yell! You called her irresponsible and you said...”

“...Ok, ok, I remember everything that I said” Merlin held his hands up, as if he was defending himself. “But _you_ are her mother, I am _not_ her father... If she doesn’t feel she can talk to you...”

“You think she wouldn’t want to talk to _me_ about boys?” she questioned, outraged.

“You think _my_ daughter is a bad influence to _your_ daughter” he said, temporizing. “I mean... she _is_ mine, and even if I love her, I know _all_ her flaws. Sometimes she drives all of us crazy but... I think you don’t have to worry – Em won’t make the same mistakes Kara did; even because Kara did those first and Em likes to be the first in everything she does, for better or for worse.”

“You do have a point” conceded Morgana with a smile. “She doesn’t take it from me, I assure you.”

“Let’s agree to disagree” responded Merlin, coming close to her now and embracing his wife. “You are _exactly_ like that.”

“No I’m not!” said the woman, annoyed.

“Yes, you are” he continued, kissing her lightly. “You really should be studying.”

“I can’t concentrate.”

“You can’t concentrate?” he repeated, amused.

“After what Mithian said...”

“This wasn’t what she meant” Merlin said, sighing. “And you know it.”

“I don’t _know_ anything – and you always take up her side.”

“I’m not taking sides” begged Merlin, too familiar with the argument. “It was just a throw away comment, it was nothing, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“I don’t think it was that! She’s always trying to best me!” complained the woman, and Merlin let go of her, already tired of hearing about it.

“Yes, Morgana, she’s trying to best you” he agreed, clearly not meaning a single word of it. “I’m not going to argue that point anymore. She was trying to best you, ok.”

“She was!” insisted Morgana, frowning. “She never gave up on you.”

Merlin laughed.

“Yes, now I’m the object of dispute between you two” he said, smiling. “But I’m with you and I have been with you for ten years, so I don’t think you have to worry...”

That softened Morgana somewhat, and she finally smiled at him.

“Now, go back to your studying so you can rock that exam and we all can celebrate your wonderfulness.”

Morgana gave him a peck on the lips and left, clearly feeling much better than when she came.

The woman was impossible, but Merlin couldn’t help but love her.

* * *

 

By the time the children arrived home, Morgana had already managed to revise all she needed to see of English as well as most of other subjects, except for Maths. Enmyria had left for a sleepover at a friend’s house; and the younger ones were already exhausted after having spent all day long exercising their magic in the vast space that their grandparents’ house provided. Supper was much more silent than usual, and although they _had_ made a bit of a drama before showering, Merlin had them all in bed before 10 PM.

He found Morgana asleep in the middle of her endless notes and carefully took her to bed, trying not to wake her. When people thought of magic, they always thought of great deeds and daring feats, but to Merlin it was so much a part of his life that he felt the joy of it even more when he could used it for simple things like allowing his wife to sleep comfortably in their bed. He crawled beside her and, before long he was snoring lightly.


	3. 1 Day Earlier

On Sunday it was Tristan’s turn to wake up in a ungodly hour. The boy was excited – he had been waiting for weeks for today’s match, when he would walk inside the stadium hand in hand with his idol – he always said that football was a magic in itself, for Merlin’s dismay. He liked it, alright, but wasn’t a fanatic and Morgana cared very little for such things, finding them mostly distracting and silly. The blame for Tristan’s enthusiasm was probably to be put on his uncle’s doorstep for Cendred, Morgause’s husband, was crazy about the sport.

By the time Freya walked in their room to ask them to come down, the table was already set for breakfast. Enmyria was back at the house, coordinating the last efforts for the coming meal and Mordred proudly presented the pancakes he had made – not even Morgana, who often complained when the children used the stove, could find fault with it. Tristan was already wearing his club’s shirt, talking non-stop about the upcoming match. Merlin hoped the team wouldn’t disappoint his son with a defeat, but matches are almost always unpredictable.

After breakfast Merlin had to go out and pick some of the things he’d be using on the following day – a handful of wooden flowers that he tied to the back of his motorcycle as he drove back to the house. He expected to find it in full activity, but as he walked in, Freya and Tristan were sitting on the stairs, looking upset. Morgana was dealing with her papers in the dining room, while Enmyria and Mordred were nowhere to be seen.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, and his son rose up, tears in his eyes, clearly furious.

“MOM is the matter!” Tristan shouted, his face red with anger. “If you had been here, it wouldn’t have happened!”

He was soon climbing the stairs back up while Merlin felt as if he had missed something rather big; everything had been calm when he left.

“Tristan?” he said, out loud, worried. “What’s going on?”

“What’s that?” Freya interrupted, looking at the fake flowers he had under his arm.

“Dad, have you heard?” voiced Enmyria, coming down.

“They’re flowers, not real ones” he offered Freya, as Morgana walked in, not looking at him, but at her daughter.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Have you tided your room? Have you cleared it? Vacumed it? Of course not!” Merlin frowned at his wife’s anger. “Could you please go up and do it, Now?”

Em paid her no heed.

“She said we can’t go to the match this afternoon, not even Tristan” she told Merlin, as he took of his jacket.

“And where have you been?” Morgana asked him pointedly.

“I was picking up the flowers as I told you” he said, gesturing to the wooden forms next to the door.

There were sounds in the stairs and she turned away from him once again.

“Don’t you all come down, go back up!” she snapped, and Merlin saw that Tristan and Mordred had just showed up on the landing.

“Wow, wow, wow, just stop” said Merlin, and Morgana’s eyes were furious as she faced him.

“Stay out of it, I’m dealing with this” she hissed.

“I want to know what’s going on” he said, moving closer to his wife.

“She just started to shout at us with no reason” complained Tristan, while Mordred just looked at his brother, clearly torn.

“I _asked_ you to do your rooms and help tidy up here” Morgana counteracted, still angry.

“And we helped!” Mordred came up, deciding where he stood.

“ _You_ made _water bombs_!” uttered the woman, gesturing with her hand angrily.

Merlin could see his wife’s muscles tensed up in anger and moved closer, putting his hands on her back in an attempt to ease things out.

“Ok, ok, ok” he said, massaging her a bit, his eyes still at the children. “Your mom is right, isn’t she?” he continued, and Tristan answered with irony.

“Oh, thanks dad, you’re so great” he climbed some steps back, muttering “God, you’re so gay!”

Unfortunately, Morgana heard it and stepped out of Merlin’s hands, even angrier than before.

“What was that?” her voice was full of danger, but her children didn’t fear her as much as other people would, they were too used to it.

“He said dad is gay” supplied Freya, her chin resting in her hands.

“And what does that mean, Tristan?” Morgana went on, and Mordred seemed amused, but it was Enmyria that replied.

“Are you saying your dad is a homosexual?”

“And if he is, what’s the problem with that?” added Mordred, a small smile curling his lips in a way that was almost scary.

Morgana couldn’t help but snort at her children’s reactions, clearly they had taught them well enough.

“Ok, now, listen…” Merlin begun, but Morgana’s head was back up and she was speaking, amused.

“If you want to call him useless, call him useless” she said, even as Merlin held her close and held his hand against her mouth.

“Shh, shh” he was glad there was some mirth in the air after all the tension. “Listen. Your mom has an exam tomorrow, which is really important, Tristan.”

“So is being a mascot!” said the boy, still annoyed. “I’ve waited two seasons for it.”

“All you were asked to do was to help clean up so your mom could study while we’re at the match” pointed out Merlin, evenly. “That’s not much to ask, is it?”

“No.” Tristan’s voice was subdued.

“No!” agreed Merlin, still holding Morgana. “Luckily, you’re not wanted here this afternoon, so, you’ll go to the game…”

“…Yes!” cheered the boy, but Merlin wasn’t done.

“If –if—you do everything your mom wants done. And do it properly, for she’ll be the judge! And, if you do, we’ll put the new tent up.”

“Yes!!!” cheered both Tristan and Mordred, turning back to their chores immediately, Enmyria close behind. Freya was still sitting on the stairs, so Merlin turned to her.

“Hey! What’s so special about you? You’ve got to help as well!”

His youngest stood up and climbed the stairs back to her room.

Morgana turned to her husband, seeming disappointed at herself.

“I was horrible to them. Why am I like this? And how can you handle me?”

“Everything will be alright” offered Merlin, kissing her lightly on the lips.

The rest of the morning flew by in the preparations for the afternoon outing – it was more complicated than one could possibly imagine, since Morgana would remind them every quarter of hour or so that they wouldn’t watch the match unless they had completed their homework and that their rooms where properly cleaned and tidied _without magic_. Merlin, on the other hand, had his hands full with the weekly cleaning of the kitchen and preparing lunch (which, of course, meant that he would have a lot to do after it was eaten) while Morgana sunk back in her studies.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgause and Cendred joined them for lunch, which was always an event. Merlin had never warmed up much to Morgana’s adoptive sister; for all their closeness, he couldn’t find much in the woman to like – they did seem to share their worst defects while he saw very little in Morgause of Morgana’s best qualities. However, he couldn’t deny that the woman was loyal to a fault to her sister and that her loyalty extended also to their children, even if she couldn’t hide that Mordred was her favorite by far.

Cendred, on the other hand, doted on Tristan – Merlin also couldn’t understand how the couple had come together and stayed that way for so long; although he had seen Cendred being vicious and violent (especially when it came to football), he was mostly amicable, good humored and even soft while his wife was harsh, stern and even haughty. Morgause could find fault in any and everything, and often Enmyria bore the worst of her moods.

Merlin felt sorry for the girl, but it was useless to raise the subject with Morgana, for his wife insisted that Morgause only meant to help Enmyria to improve. She was extremely protective of her children – and god only knew what she’d do if Merlin said anything remotely similar about her oldest child, but Morgause always managed to have her way.

For all of those familiar issues, lunch was a pleasant affair, with everyone in a good mood. Kara’s presence – she always lunched with them on Sundays – seemed to silence any complaints Morgause would make about her oldest niece, that wasn’t paying attention to the rest of them anyway, as she discussed their favorite TV show with Merlin’s daughter. Freya was, as always, completely captivated by Kay; who was a handful when it came to the table. Merlin often thought that his youngest daughter thought the boy was a doll, but at the same time, he also adored his grandchild and it was a pleasure to see their interaction and to help him with his food. Mordred, of course, was mostly quiet, but, then again, that was nothing but normal and Merlin could only wonder if he was keeping a lively mind-conversation with someone as he sometimes would.

After they took the dishes back to the kitchen Merlin went out with Kara to say his goodbyes and help set Kay in his seat in the car. Mithian had given their daughter a small vehicle when she turned eighteen, although Merlin had been against it – he thought that since their child had decided she was too much of a grown up to do as she must, she should not get such expansive gifts but understand and undertake the effort it took them to manage to buy such a thing, but his ex-wife had scolded him and spoke with him at length how it was mostly to guarantee Kara’s and Kay’s safety and how neither could be counted upon to drop it all on a mad dash if the boy needed it – that Merlin, after all, had three other children that may need him anytime and ran his business by himself while Mithian was often either out in the country or out of England in business trips. In the end, he couldn’t talk her out of it, even if he did convince Mithian that their child should be solely responsible for the expenses related to it, and after a single year he was starting to notice how it _helped_ that Kara had her own means to come and go as she needed.

When he came back to the kitchen, he found Morgana doing the dishes while Morgause spoke non-stop, her eyes hard. He could hear Cendred talking to Freya somewhere on the second floor and none of the children were in sight. Neither women saw him as he came in, for the sounds of the china muffled his footsteps and they both had their backs turned to where he was.

“I know it is his grandchild, and he is a beautiful kid, but I can’t see how you bear it – it makes you look older! And that _irresponsible_ girl! She didn’t even bother speaking with us!”

“Don’t exaggerate” warned Morgana, but her sister huffed.

“She did exchange a few pleasantries, yes. I see she’s grown closer to Enmyria; that can’t be good.”

Merlin felt himself harden at the comment, although it wasn’t unexpected. He wondered if Morgana’s antics on the previous afternoon had been caused by Morgause’s previous comments or if they just happened to notice the same things and worry much the same way.

“They’re girls…” was all that his wife answered, clearly tired of the ranting but unable to stop her sister.

“They’re _years_ apart.”

“As are we” pointed out Morgana, putting the pan on the dish drainer with a loud clang. “And we were close when we were their age.”

“It’s different” hissed Morgause. “We’re sisters.”

Morgana shook her head, clearly frustrated.

“Kara and Enmyria are more closely related than we are – no, Morgause, that’s enough” she said, finally. “I appreciate that you worry, but I would also _love_ if you could stop nagging about Kara every chance you get – she’s _my_ step-daughter and I’ll deal with her as I see fit. If you don’t mind…”

Merlin felt a small surge of pride at his wife and left quietly. “Take that” he thought, climbing the steps to help the children with their preparations.

* * *

 

It was when they were on the last moments of preparations that problems arose in the house. The children were all running around getting their things to leave and claiming their seats in the car.

Merlin walked up to Morgana who was still finishing the last of the cleaning in the kitchen.

“Right, love, we’re leaving” he said, coming for a kiss, but she moved away from him, giving him a sour look.

“What?” she said, her voice hard.

“We have to get going” Merlin said, a bit puzzled.

“I need you to stay!” she hissed, looking at the assembled people in the hall.

“Morgana…” he started, thinking about how much his child would miss them.

“I can’t do it without you” she pleaded, clearly nervous. “I don’t get math, I never did!”

Something inside Merlin softened at that. He knew how difficult it was for her to admit she couldn’t do something or that she needed help. Morgana had always been the kind of person that believes that she could do anything and everything on her own; she always had a hard time admitting that she needed help.

“Please” she added, her voice small and he nodded.

There was a part of him that mourned not being able to see his child walking onto the field, a large part indeed. He always hated missing those important bits, and he could just hope that Tristan would come to understand it – if not now, perhaps someday.

Still, it was surprisingly easy to organize everything; Morgause gave him a hard smile that meant she approved of his choice (no surprise there; there’s a reason why she never wanted kids) and Cendred helped to cheer the kids up, picking Merlin’s Prius keys and preparing everything in order for them to leave.

Soon enough they were on their way and Merlin had nothing to face but the truly heroic quest of helping Morgana understand math while pretending that his heart wasn’t far from it.

* * *

 

Of course, teaching Morgana math was one of those things that are easier said than done. She seemed to have missed some of the most basic classes on the subject, and it was showing now; so many years later.

One of the main issues was that she had done a mock test on Friday and her score on math had been 23%; which wasn’t nearly close to what she needed to pass and get into her course. It was clear to Merlin that one of the main problems was that she just couldn’t focus enough on what she was doing in order not to make a mistake.

They had been doing exercises in linear equations for a while when his phone beeped – Morgause had just sent him a picture of Tristan entering the field, dressed in his club shirt, hand in hand with his idol.

“Oh, look at that” said Merlin, endeared.

“I’m trying to study” Morgana chided, annoyed.

“You really want to see it” he teased, but she was in no mood for it.

“I don’t want to see my child used as an advertisement board, thank you” she snapped, and Merlin took a deep breath.

“Come on, Morgana…” he said, putting the phone in front of her.

She looked at the image, and her eyes went soft for a second, a small smile playing on her lips. Tristan’s happiness was almost tangible, and it affected her. It was just a moment, than it was gone.

“I have to get this right” she said, back to her paper. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping!”

Merlin’s eyes also moved to what she was writing, and he spotted immediately why she couldn’t find the correct result.

“No, no, no. What are you doing?” he said, shaking his head. “A minus times a minus is a plus! Minus three times minus two is six; not minus six, six!”

She looked at him, bewildered.

“What? Why?”

Merlin tried to remember the reason behind it, but he couldn’t – that is, if anyone had ever taught him why.

“Never mind why, you’re not teaching maths are you?” he asked, shrugging.

“Of course I am” she countered, annoyed.

“Right, but to _infants_ ” he pointed out, tired. “You don’t need to know why.”

“Yes, but without this, I won’t get into the course” she said, annoyed. “And I won’t get in, because I’m crap!”

Morgana rose from her seat and walked away from the table, clearly near to a break down. Merlin could only stare ahead and wonder how he could help. He had never had a big problem with math, mostly because his best friend had been brilliant at it; it was no surprise that he was such a popular teacher now…

… And just like that, he made the obvious connection; wondering how could he have been so stupid. If anyone could teach Morgana math, that person was Will.

* * *

 

“Hello, Will’s house, Gwen speaking” said a soft voice on the other side of the call.

“Gwen?” asked Merlin, a bit confused. “You are at Will's?!”

“That’s what I just said, Merlin” she answered, her voice filled with laughter.

“Okay” he said. “Never mind then…”

“No, don’t hang up” complained Gwen, and he didn’t. “How’s everything? How are the kids? How’s Morgana? How is the studying coming along?”

“I seem to be unable to teach her math” he explained, sighing. “I was going to ask Will to help her with that and maybe she’ll accept that he’s not some sort of… caveman.”

Gwen giggled at that.

“Will, Merlin needs your help” she sing-sang.

“When doesn’t he, the moron?” Merlin could hear Will’s voice.

“That’s not! That doesn’t…” Merlin sputtered, and Will seemed to be closer.

“Give me the phone” he said, but Gwen’s voice was still closer than his when she spoke again.

“You’ve got to teach Morgana math…”

Something was dropped in the background, and he heard Lance and Gwen laughing, which filled him with something that was at the same time envy and fondness at his friends.

“Now, that’s not needing my help – that’s not even a favor!” Will complained, and Gwen clearly had switched to the speakerphone. “Tell him he’s the magical one, not me!”

Merlin flinched automatically when he heard his gifts being spoken of so openly, but Will had never been sensible.

“Tell him I’ll come over and play videogames with him later” offered Merlin, unsure if Will was still close enough to hear.

“You had already promised to come” Will cut, annoyed. “That’s not a good exchange.”

Gwen chuckled, but it was Lance who spoke

“As if Morgana would allow it!”

“Hey, she’s my friend” interjected the woman, and Merlin felt a new surge of affection for her.

“Well, if you want me, you’ll have to come and get me” the man said, knowing his friends could hear it. “She won’t let me go anywhere unless she gets her way, and her way is learning math this afternoon. Otherwise, she’s going to tie me to the bed, and not in a good way.”

“Please don’t talk about you, Morgana and tying to the bed” pleaded Gwen, while Will screamed in the background and Lance laughed.

“Tell me, tell me all about it!”

“Please” Merlin said, knowing that even without seeing him all of them could picture his face. Lance picked the phone and switched off the speaker phone.

“Tell her we’ll be over in half an hour. Keep calm, and breath.”

“They’re not having a baby, Lance…” Gwen chided.

“With Morgana, one never knows” interrupted Will. “Everything is possible!”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver” Merlin said, before hanging up.

He walked to the backyard, where Morgana was seated, looking at the sky.

“Ok. I’ve solved it. Will is coming over to teach you math. They’ll be here in half an hour.”

“They?” asked Morgana, looking at him, confused.

“Lance and Gwen where over, so they’re coming too. I also promised I would go back with them and play videogames after you’re done.”

Morgana seemed almost in panic at this idea.

“But I need you here! I need you to look after the children so I can…”

“Everything has its price” interrupted Merlin, softly. “You know Will, he wouldn’t come here just out of the goodness of his heart, so…”

“Because playing video-games with him is such a good payment” she complained, annoyed.

“Well” he said, laughing. “Will thinks it is, so… I never go there anymore. He just wants some time – boys time.”

She took a deep breath.

“Ok, but I’m keeping Gwen” she said, as if their friends were cards to be exchanged.

“Suit yourself” said Merlin. “So, we’ll work out the simple stuff, and then you and Will can go over the most complex…”

“No, no no no” cut Morgana, shaking her head. “You just confuse me. I’ll wait for Will.” Then she looked around for a second, before smirking. “You can put up the tent.”

“Don’t make me put up the tent” Merlin whined, frowning in despair, but she just snorted. “You know I can’t put up the tent. You’ll make me embarrass myself in front of the children…”

“It won’t be the first time” Morgana said, but it she was laughing. “And it was your idea.”

He shook his head, looking absolutely scared, and she laughed out loud.

“Lance will be here, he’ll help you, it’ll be fine” she said, patting him on the arm and handing him the large package in which the tent was kept.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Gwen was the first to walk in, all her maternal side showing as she walked towards Morgana.

“How is it going?” she asked, and upon seeing her friend’s face, she came closer and hugged her. Will came close second, a smile upon his face.

“Hey Morgs!” he said, cheerfully.

“Thanks for coming, Will” she replied, tensely.

“Tell me, what’s the matter?” he asked, walking up to her.

“You tell me” answered Morgana, gesturing to her papers.

“Oh, algebra” he announced, sitting by her side. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this.”

Gwen walked out, to the garden, wondering what Merlin was doing. She couldn’t see him, but from the various sticks spread on the lawn and the large shape underneath a huge spread of fabric she guessed he must be trying (and failing) to put together a tent. She walked in, carefully, to see her friend utterly confused underneath it.

“Do you need a hand with these?” she asked, trying to control her laughter. Merlin’s hair was all over the place, and he seemed completely wrong-footed. From the size alone it seemed like a complicated enterprise for anyone, let alone someone as clumsy as Merlin.

“I opened up the new tent and there were no instructions” he complained, breathless. “I think they’re color coded or something.”

“Yeah…” she said, raising a bit of the fabric. He turned towards her, a special look upon his face.

“Hold on, hold on, don’t move!”

For a moment Gwen felt as if she was about to create a massive disaster, but soon enough she saw Merlin fishing his phone from his pocket and setting up the camera.

“Good color, diffuse light, you have to take advantage of it.”

She smiled, endeared by his antics, and he captured the moment with a small click. As he showed her the result, she was amazed by how well she looked.

“Well, everything I’ve got to do is walk around inside a tent” she teased, just as they heard Lance calling their names outside. Soon enough, he had crawled inside as well.

“How are you doing?”

“Not great” replied Merlin, looking lost. “There are no instructions.”

“You mean these?” asked Lance, gesturing towards a small plastic bag beside Merlin’s left leg.

“Oh” exclaimed Merlin, looking around, completely surprised. “Oh, there they are.”

Lance just smiled.

“Why don’t you two just relax outside while I finish this?” he offered, kindly.

“You’re a life saver” said Merlin, with a small smile. Gwen moved closer to give Lance a small kiss on the lips, and heard Merlin’s phone making click noises once again. Merlin had taken some of their best pictures, so she was well pleased.

They crawled outside and she cleaned her hands on her jeans, looking around.

“Do you think Will tamed her yet?” asked Merlin, looking anxiously to the house.

“Why?” Gwen looked somewhat amused. “Is she being a cow?”

“Oooohh” Merlin answered, his face making it clear that she was having a big time fit.

“But that’s why she’s going to be such a great teacher” she consoled him, smiling. “The kids love her and, every once in a while, she gives them a bit of cow.”

Merlin chuckled.

“That’s the magic formula, then?” he teased, and Gwen smiled. “I can’t see you doing that.”

“Don’t you doubt me, Merlin Emrys” she said, her hands in her hips, and they fell on, laughing.

After so many years, Gwen was well used to all mood swings and particularities from both Merlin and Morgana. She had first met Morgana when Enmyria enrolled at kindergarten, just a little before she had met Merlin. Gwen had taught the girl on that first year – also her first at school – and, somehow, they had grown to become friends. It started as a PTA meeting, a call, and soon they had become inseparable. It was with her that Morgana had first confided about her meeting with Merlin, how she had found him adorable. It was also with Gwen that she shared the details of their first date, first night. Gwen had gladly baby-sitted for Morgana as they grew closer; and when they had decided to tie the knot, she had been the maid of honor and had guaranteed to her friend that her baby bump wasn’t at all visible in the chosen dress.

She and Lance had met at the wedding, twelve years before. It had been almost love at first sight, or something like it. They had talked, and danced, and without even trying to, he had charmed her and swept her off her feet. It hadn’t been that easy – Lance was away, working for the Peace Corps for over a year after that, but when he came back, they had gotten together naturally; as if there was something pulling them together that nothing could stop. He was her knight in shining armor, and by his side, she had learned that while nothing is ever perfect, fairy tales could, indeed, come true.

A while afterwards, Will showed up in the backyard, and Merlin went over, full of energy.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

“I predict a C” he said, shrugging, as Morgana came out as well. “A strip-tease to the teacher may help her.”

“I’m not stripping for you” she said, punching Will lightly, but she was smiling.

“You can’t tell me that you didn’t sleep your way through math if you can’t solve Stage 4 problems” he teased, slipping his arm around her waist.

“Do you want a full detailed list or just the summary?” she teased back, and Merlin shook his head.

“No lists, no stripping, and no sleeping around” he said, but he was grinning. Will and Merlin had grown up together, so he didn’t take offense at his friend’s remarks, especially since Morgana didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re no fun” complained Will, but it was all good natured and soon followed by sounds on the door.

“They’re in the backyard!” yelled Tristan, running over to them. Will let go of Morgana, clapping the boy on his back while Freya ran right to her father’s arm and was picked up in a hug.

“Gwen!” the girl yelled, gesturing to her teacher, and Merlin let go of her, turning his attention to Tristan.

“Look at you, you look great!” he said, smiling.

“I do, don’t I?” the boy said, as Em walked to them.

“It was 3-0” she announced happily as Mordred, Morgause and Cendred walked in.

“What is this?” asked the blond woman, eyeing the tent with disgust; but her husband quickly was over and helping Lancelot with his efforts.

“Come on, take a proper look now” said Tristan, poking Morgana’s arm.

“Yes, it is lovely, now take it off” she said, tiredly.

“Why?” the boy complained, but she was still tense.

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“Boys, come here” said Merlin, walking inside with his two sons. Morgana finally made her way to Gwen and smiled; Morgause on her other side complaining about the game. After a few minutes, Mordred came up with two glasses, and gave one to each sister while Tristan brought one for Gwen. After taking a sip, it became clear that Merlin had decided that some alcohol was needed to control Morgana’s bad humor.

The three women stood in the corner, watching the movement around them. Gwen saw that Freya was pretending to water the flowers while singing softly.

“She’s so sweet” Gwen said, and Morgana also turned towards her daughter.

“And growing up.”

“Yes” Gwen agreed, simply.

“Maybe _that_ is the problem” Morgana let out a small sigh. “Maybe I don’t want to be a teacher; maybe what I really want is another baby.”

Gwen looked at her, gobsmacked, but it was Morgause who spoke.

“Another? You already have four!”

“Just one more?” said her friend, smiling, as if she was talking about a second piece of desert rather than a child, then she turned to her other side, looking at Gwen. “Do you want to join us?”

Gwen laughed and shook her head.

“Come on, we’ll have it together!” she nudged her friend with her shoulder.

“I’ve got 34 kids” said Gwen, shaking her head. “That’s enough.”

“Come on…”

“No!” she went on. “I like my weekends – and my holidays – and having time to myself…”

“Gwen, Gwen” Morgana cut in, unbelieving. “You’re not allowed not to have kids. You’d be the best mom in the world.”

“Well…” she shrugged. “Lance doesn’t want kids. He says there are too many of them in the world and…”

Morgana scoffed, and Morgause actually looked at them before shaking her head and spitting out.

“Please… You don’t _ask_ them – you just go there and do it. It is _your_ choice!” the blond woman said, rolling her eyes.

“What?” Gwen frowned. “You don’t mean that. Morgana?”

She expected Morgana to disagree with her sister, but she merely shrugged.

“This is outrageous!” Gwen was completely shocked at such an idea; it was against everything she believed to be right.

“You could adopt one” Morgana offered, smiling, and Gwen moved her head from one side to the other, not compromising.

“Cendred, let’s go” said Morgause, who clearly had enough of their company and of the children’s noise. The man was out of the tent quickly enough, and after Lance arranged the last details, he, Merlin and Will also left for Will’s place.

 


	4. The Day

Some other friends of Will's had also arrived for the night, and playing video-games had become a long session of drinking, laughing and teasing one another. Gilli and Cedric worked with Will in the shop; and while Merlin wasn’t close to them, he knew them well enough to make sure that the night was in a light, friendly mood. It was exactly what he needed after the continuous stress of the last few days; he was used to Morgana’s extreme mood swings under pressure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t benefit from staying away – and the last two weeks had been particularly terrible when it came to changes in behavior.

It was past midnight by the time that Gilli pulled him away from the others.

“I’ve got to ask you something” he said, looking serious.

“Yeah?” replied Merlin, a bit confused.

“When you split up with your first wife – sorry, I can’t remember her name…”

“Mithian” he supplied, wondering where this was heading.

“Am I right to think there was no one else?”

Merlin looked, actually looked at Gilli for the first time during the whole night. He was perspiring, but there was something steely underneath his gaze.

“No, there was no one else” he said, carefully.

“So, you just knew you had to leave?”

Merlin nodded; it hadn’t been easy, but he never regretted it; it had been the best thing he could have done for both of them and for Kara. An unhappy marriage would only lead to an unhappy family.

“Pretty much.”

“You see, that’s how I feel” Gilli said, looking relieved. “I just got to get rid of her! I mean, just leave her, not kill her or anything. I just _need to breath_.”

“That bad?” Merlin asked, curious.

“You have no idea” he muttered, and clapped Merin’s back. “Thanks.”

“Anytime?”

It was just a small conversation, and yet, the amount of memories that it brought was enough to make Merlin feel nostalgic. There hadn’t been a special someone when he broke up with Mithian, but there had been a burning wish for someone else, someone new, something new that filled him with a sense of anticipation and made it hard to bear the many burdens of married life. In the end, it had made him so miserable that it had been easy to walk away.

And soon enough, there _had_ been someone else, someone who swapped him off his feet with a swish of hair and a wink. After years with the same person, it had been exhilarating to find himself being desired by someone else; to find himself the object of the moves of someone still so powerfully young and free. Gwaine had charmed him, teased him, stripped him and made him remember why he could never, ever, call himself a straight man. Just the memory of his hands were enough to make his blood flow once more; hot and hard, filling him up and making him feel ashamed of his thoughts when he belonged to someone else.

Things had ended very naturally with Gwaine, just as they had started. He was not the kind of guy that dealt well with relationships, and after some thrilling and breath-taking moments, they had fallen easily into a friendship and nothing else. Gwaine understood him; he was just there, and it was more important to have such a friend than having some, admittedly mind-blowing, sex.

Lance had come along soon afterwards; a steady and loyal friend. He had been Gwaine’s roommate in college, and they still had a good friendship going. And, on the following year, Morgana had stridden right inside his studio, demanding of him to take pictures of her little girl. Enmyria had looked like a fairy-tale princess, all golden hair and pale skin; the same decided nose that her mother had and the same bright green eyes. It had been easy to capture the fierce rebellion and the unconventional pretty that mixed up in the child’s face. It had been a work of passion – a deep analysis of the two of them and of their relationship that shone through the camera even if Morgana wasn’t in most of shots.

He couldn’t really explain how everything had happened from there – it just did. Morgana had decided that she wanted him, and she always got what she wanted. She had called, and she showed up, and positively scared him with her fierce behavior, but it had been her face when she first saw the result of Em’s photo shoot that had convinced him to go out with here – there was something there, something vulnerable and scared underneath all the steel she liked to show the world. That had been what captured him, and he captured it many times afterwards, with his camera, the deep paradox that was Morgana.

All this thinking made him long for her, her arms and her fire, and with a few words and short goodbyes he took his leave of his friends, running towards the woman he loved.

* * *

 

The house was eerily silent when he arrived. Merlin hopped over the steps, two at a time, and walked inside the bedroom to find Morgana writing in her journal.

“I thought you had stopped that.”

“I’m nervous” she said, her hand moving furiously. “This test and… Other things.”

“Did you see something?” Merlin asked, worried. Morgana’s visions sometimes brought them an important foreknowledge, and sometimes they just got in the way. She had learned to control them well enough, but in stressful times they would come up again, completely untamed.

“Yes” she was clearly tense, still writing. “Em… She was angry and confused.”

“That sounds to me like a perfect teenager behavior” he offered, trying to ease her.

“Not like that” Morgana declared, putting down her journal. “She was running away.”

Merlin snorted.

“Well, they do that sometimes. It isn’t… She wouldn’t stay away.”

“She did” his wife said, her voice small. “She wanted… Her father.”

Merlin didn’t say anything for a while, taking off his trainers and trousers.

“Yes” he agreed, sitting down. “That isn’t unexpected. She doesn’t know him, it’s natural that…”

“You’re the only father she has ever known and the only one that she needs” Morgana’s voice was harsh now, as it often turned when something scared her.

“Yet, I’m not her father – as she’s happy to remind me the subject comes up.”

“Has she done that again? I swear…”

“She didn’t say anything” Merlin calmed her down. “It’s just… Maybe she just needs to know. Didn’t you feel it? The need to know who your parents were? You tried to find them too.”

“It’s different” Morgana said, shaking her head. “I had to know why they left me. It’s not…”

“If you looked for them so much, how can you deny that to her?” reasoned the man. “Maybe you should talk to her --  you owe her that much.”

“I do not!” the woman was incensed, the words rushing out of her mouth in an angry flow. “She’s mine – my own. I carried her alone. I had her alone. I raised her alone. She _doesn’t_ need her father, she _doesn’t need_ anyone else! She has everything she needs _right here_! She’d better get used to it.”

“As you got used to it?” his voice was soft and sad. It was a sore point that even after all those years, he also knew nothing about Enmyria’s father. “Really, is that what you want, Morgana? You ran away – you ran away in search of them – you shut everyone out and kept your silence. You had everything you needed – all the love you could ask for from Gaius and Alice – and still you ran away.”

“Which was very ungrateful of me” she said, a bit calmer. “And I don’t think Em should do it – she won’t do it.”

Merlin laughed at that.

“Now I’m sure you’re crazy. You never, ever say you’re wrong .”

“I do too!” replied the woman, offended.

“So you should admit that you’re wrong and talk to her.”

“I _won’t_ , _never_ ” Morgana turned to him, her hair flying as a whip in the agitation of her body. “And if you ever…”

“What would I tell her?” Merlin asked, bewildered. “I know _nothing_ about the case. You showed up on my doorstep already with a child. And I’ve always respected your wish not to tell me.”

“Maybe this is the reason I never told you – so you won’t be able to tell her either.”

Merlin could only stare.

“That doesn’t even make any sense. What do you think I’d do? Take her with me on a trip to meet her father behind your back?”

“You can’t meet him” Morgana said, her eyes wild. “I don’t want you to. Not ever. So I’ll never say anything, and you’ll never meet and… Even if something happens to me, you’ll never be able to tell her.”

“Nothing will happen, Morgana” he said, tired of her temper and getting under the covers.

She gave him a small, sad smile.

“Yes. Nothing I see ever happens. We’ll live happily ever after and have a house full of grandchildren. We will live quietly the rest of our lives because nothing ever happens. Nothing ever happens. And this is how I like it.”

With those words, Morgana turned off the light and lay down in bed, as far from her husband as possible, curled in on herself.

This was not how Merlin had wanted the evening to end.

* * *

 

The following morning started with a chilly mood in the house. Weekdays were always a mess; as it was bound to be when you had three bathrooms for seven people. They were all running against the clock. Freya was the only one that was ready before her time, for the boys and Em were having a hard time getting their bags ready – under Morgana’s constant reminder that they should have done it the previous day while she played hopscotch with Freya in the backyard.

Merlin was struggling (and losing) to fit everything he needed for the early afternoon photo shoots in the back of the car – it was just as well that Em had compromised with taking the bus to school, for he wouldn’t have space for everything if he had to use the extra seats. He saw the girl coming out to wish Morgana good luck on her test as he picked the last few items from the shed.

He managed to get everything ready just in the nick of time, shouting for the boys to come and take their seats. Morgana showed up, and she seemed to be more composed than on the previous day.

“You’ll have to pick them up, ok?” she said, looking at him. “I can’t be sure if I’ll be done by the time school is out.”

“I know” Merlin replied, tiredly. “Are you taking the bus?”

“I’ll take the Fireblade” there was a small smile on her lips. “I miss being a bad girl in a motorcycle instead of a tired mom, and I’ll need to drop by my mother's before the test; I’ll never be back in time if I take the bus.”

“Ok” he said, smiling back at her. “Good luck, love.”

He gave her a small kiss and got inside the car, ready for the day.

* * *

 

It was a perfectly ordinary day -- Merlin had a long meeting during the morning with a few  employees of the nearby museum as they talked over a new set of pictures they’d use for their new folder and before lunch break he and Kara went over to put up the decoration for the early afternoon photoshoot. The mother had decided that she’d take pictures of her twin children as if they had just came out of eggs, in yellow chick costumes against a background of flowers and fences to accompany the broken egg shells. Merlin knew from his own experience that this was the perfect nightmare, and that it was hard enough to make one baby to look at the camera, let alone two. The twins were eleven months old and the pictures were meant to be used in their first birthday party.

  
Kara was particularly distracted, giggling to herself as she texted non-stop on the phone, and that lead her to drop the flowers and fences twice as she lowered the blue background; Merlin took a deep breath to calm himself for he felt like yelling at her. It would lead nowhere, and he better set up the camera already for after children came, it became a hard thing to do.

 

They grabbed a bite on the other side of the street, some truly awful kebabs -- Merlin didn’t even like kebabs, but it was everything he would have time for and as they crossed the street back he saw the parents parking their car.

  
The kids were naturally agitated by the time they had been fitted with the costumes, and Merlin caught a few finger puppets to try and catch their attention. They all had rattles in their tiny heads that rang as he moved his fingers, creating an imaginary story. He could see his oldest daughter smiling softly at him -- he had used them with her quite a lot, and would sometimes tell Kay stories with them. One of the babies stopped and looked right at him, awed, and Merlin moved the other hand, ready to shoot as soon as the second baby looked his way.

 

Time seemed to stand still for a second, the temperature around him falling a few degrees as he felt goosebumps on his skin and heard Morgana’s voice as if in a soft whisper.

  
“I love you.”

 

“I love you too” he answered, both inside and out, completely dazed. It was very unlike Morgana to resort to such desperate measures, she had never been good with this kind of conversation, although Mordred was particularly gifted at it. Maybe she was about to get into her exam and didn’t want to go inside nursing whatever mad feelings she had about him since the previous night.

  
He gave a soft smile to himself -- it didn’t matter. They would solve it, whatever she had seen, as soon as they could, and it would be fine. They would talk tonight, and with more patience, they’d set it right. It was going to be fine -- they had all the time in the world.

 

They’d have time to apologize, to make up, and to make things right. They’d have all night, as she had already said she would ask Morgause to pick the children up, and even if that failed, they’d still have many days, months, and years of their lives to remind each other of their love, that domestic squabbles were inevitable, but no reason to give up.

 

“Dad!” Kara’s voice rang through the air, and he finally noticed that the time was rolling naturally again as he clicked the camera, a second before one of the kids fell to the side with a cry. As everything rushed back into place, he pressed the button, only to be rewarded with a loud bang and the smell of smoke indicating that the camera broke down in his hands, fusing after the contact with such a large amount of magic.

Merlin looked at the two toddlers crying and the parents that failed to keep them quiet long enough for a good shot. He sighed.

“Let’s take a break”, he said, gesturing to them. “I’ll have to change cameras anyway.”

There was a grateful nod from the mother as she picked up one of the children, relieved as if the whole thing hadn’t been her idea in the first place.

Merlin felt a void in the place Morgana’s presence had made itself felt – as he always did after such rare contacts – but stronger than usual, as if their recent arguments had made him miss her more.

Well, he would make sure to show her exactly how much he loved and cherished her later.

He stepped away under his daughter's confused gaze, but she soon followed him to the  storage room.

 

“What;s up?”

 

 “Please pick up your siblings at school.”

 

He’d make it well again, everything would be fine.

 

* * *

 

Merlin was finishing up the last of his material when the office’s landline rang. He generally wouldn’t answer it that late, but a quick look showed him that it was Kara’s number. He picked up the phone at the same time that he checked his cell phone – it was dead.

“Hello?”

“Dad?” her voice was brisk, and there was a strange subdued noise in the back.

“What happened?” he asked, alarmed.

“There has been an accident” she said, and he felt his heart racing at the same time his vision tunneled. “I just dropped the kids at St. Mary’s and I’m about to pick up Em.”

“What accident? What happened?”

“They wouldn’t say” he heard the car opening up. “I’m not family – they’re kids, so…”

“Morgana?” he asked, at the same time a bit relieved that the children were fine and even more worried after her earlier whisper. “Did you leave them _alone_ in the hospital?!”

“Gwen’s there” Kara’s voice was carefully controlled, and he could almost see her getting the car started. “Mom is coming over as well. I’m picking up Em, and I’ll meet you there. Drive safe.”

The line went dead. He dropped the phone as fast as he could, picking up the keys and not even bothering to check anything other than the locks. Morgana was in a hospital, and that was at the same time worrying and incredibly dangerous. Who knew how her magic would react to random probing? It often became wild when the user was  unconscious – the last thing he wanted was for them to be discovered. And yet, if it saved her life… Merlin wouldn’t mind one bit to lose a few rights if it meant that Morgana was alive, but what would that mean for the children?

He tried to remember Kara’s words and drive safely – they certainly didn’t need another accident, but he also felt anxious and kept on pushing himself to get there. Every red light was a torment, and he found himself wishing that they could be like the wizards in the Harry Potter Books and apparate.

Merlin found Gwen and the children in the main waiting room of St. Mary’s, Freya was dozing in Gwen’s arms, her face marked by tears. It was easy to see that Tristan had been crying too. Mordred seemed to have taken a leaf out of his eldest sister’s book and was staying in control over himself. It worried him more than the others’ tears, or Kara’s composed voice – as much as she loved Morgana, she wasn’t her mom. Of all the children, Mordred had always been the closest to their mother, they shared a deep bond.

“What happened?” he shot at Gwen as soon as he reached them.

The woman shook her head, at a loss for words. Tristan seemed lost, and Freya woke up blinking to his voice. It was Mordred who actually spoke.

“She was coming down a street and was hit by a police car that crossed the red light” he said, serious. “They won’t tell us anything else – we’ve been waiting for you.”

Merlin shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the information given by his son in dead tones. Mordred’s blue eyes stared at him seriously.

“I can’t feel her” he said in his father’s head, as a big bell chiming a mournful song.

“She may be unconscious” Merlin replied in a whisper, which led Mordred to let out something between a snort and a sob and shake his head, looking away. “I must speak to the doctor”.

He didn’t wait for a reply before going to the reception desk and talking to the girl. Even as he came back, they stood silently, and Mordred kept on looking away, watching the movement of other families as they heard good and bad news.

It seemed like an eternity before anything happened, but it could have only been a couple minutes until Mithian came in, shooting questions left and right, soon followed by Em, leaning on Kara, her eyes red and questioning. It was another quarter of hour before a young doctor in light blue scrubs walked towards them.

“Mr. Emrys?” he asked, looking at Merlin, his green eyes full of compassion, and he knew it before he said it. It was in his eyes, in his breath, in his essence.  Merlin took a step back, unable to breary, and Gwen caught him, steadying him. The man’s eyes got even softer, and Merlin felt as if his graciousness would strangle the life out of him as well. “We did everything we could” he said, his expression sad.

“When?” he heard himself asking, and the doctor shook his head.

“She was pretty much gone by the time she arrived.”

There was more,  words and explanations, as Mithian asked the doctor questions and Em cried loudly in Kara’s arms. Gwen kept holding Merlin, but he couldn’t listen, he couldn’t understand, because it didn’t make any sense. It was meant to be their happy ending, their big family and their complicated relationship. It was meant to be it – but now Morgana was gone.

He could feel the air vibrating with Mordred’s rage, he could feel the grief that seemed to emanate from Enmyria and he feared that they’d let it loose, but somehow they kept themselves locked up. It was too much, too much for him to understand and accept.

Nothing made sense anymore.

* * *

 

Sometime later, Gaius and Alice arrived; as did Morgause and Cendred. They had been moved up to a room, since they had decided it was best for Merlin to take some sedatives to control his emotions. He hated them – they made him feel completely out of himself, out of contact with reality, and dulled his magic as well.

It felt odd to feel that calm as everyone around cried. Even Morgause’s make up was blotched, and even through the pills he could feel the hectic energy of her magic and its murderous intent. Still, Alice managed to keep them all in check, with her smooth touch that shone even through her grief.

When Dr. Muirden finally felt that he was well enough to be taken to see his wife’s body, it didn’t feel as real as before. Morgana was lying, most of her body covered. Someone had taken the trouble to clean her face from blood and dirt. Her hair was let down, falling like onyx curls on her neck and shoulders, covering the worst of her upper body injuries. Looking at her face was the worst. She seemed peaceful – as if she was quietly sleeping, snowy-white skin and dark hair. For a wild moment, he wondered if she would wake if he kissed her. True love’s kiss had been enough for many women in fairy tales, and she looked like a hidden princess now more than ever. He knew it to be madness even as he lowered himself and touched her lips with his, but Morgana didn’t stir.

She would never kiss him back, not anymore.

The thought brought fresh tears to his eyes, and Alice wrapped her arms around him as Gaius made a blessing sign over her brow. Dr. Muirden nodded to them, firmly.

“Did she have any previous made arrangements in the case of death? Funeral homes, or…?” he asked, seriously. Merlin felt a punch in his gut, and could have hit the man – but, of course, it was his job. He had never worried about such things; he didn’t even know where to begin.

“We already set everything up” said his mother-in-law, her voice full of emotion, and he loved her more for it. “They’ll probably pick her up later tonight or early in the morning.”

The doctor nodded, and Gaius clasped his hand, firmly.

“I appreciate everything you did, young man” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “And, of course, for keeping quiet over…”

Gaius made a vague but unmistakable gesture, and the man gave them a small smile.

“We’re kin” he said, with a stiff nod. “I am glad myself that she didn’t end up in the hands of a… another doctor” he finished. “If you'll excuse me…”

Soon enough a nurse came to take them back to their room, where they’d pick their things up and go home – but it would never be a true home, not anymore, not without Morgana. Everything about it might stand in the exact same spot, and yet, it was shattered – forever broken and beyond repair.

They’d have to make do with ruins now.


	5. The Following Day

Every morning, on his way to have breakfast, George would remind Arthur of what he was meant to do that day. He was a dull man, but no one could doubt his competence – it didn’t matter what his duty was, from finding Vivian’s earrings to setting up Arthur’s schedule with Annis, his Head of PR, he always gave his best.

There were few things Arthur dreaded more than George’s arrival in the morning – they were just a bit better than Vivian’s continuous complains over everything – for it always marked the moment he would stop being himself and become the Crown Prince, the Nation’s Golden Heir. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been easier if he had been raised to it since he was born instead of being pushed up to the position in his early twenties, but, somehow, he thought not. The weight of the responsibility would have crushed him, and he would have never had the time to find out what it was like to be _almost_ normal.

George walked in, his face graver than usual, and Arthur couldn’t help but make a jest.

“What is it, George? Did Sophia lose a necklace? Or was it Vivian’s heels that broke?”

“I haven’t heard anything about that, your Highness, but I’ll make sure to enquire after it.”

Arthur shook his head, it was useless. The man didn’t have a single bone of humor in his body.

“Do that” he agreed, mindlessly stepping into the hallway. “Did something happen? You look troubled.”

“I have just spoken to Annis” the man begun, opening a door for the prince, even though the closest guard looked offended at that. “I am sorry to inform you, sir, that one of your university acquaintances has passed away last evening.”

That made Arthur give him a side glance, but he didn’t trouble himself too much over it – Annis considered that anyone that had attended university on the same decade that he did deserved some kind of token on their life events – be it marriage, birth of children or death. He tried to not wonder how much they spent on flowers to be delivered in his name without him even knowing, but Annis kept on saying that it made for good publicity, so he merely shrugged at it. Still, most of the times, he wouldn’t even hear about it until afterwards – if he did.

“I expect she’s sending them flowers, yes?” Arthur said, bored. “And why are you like that anyway? I doubt the death of some random person that went to university with me means much to you – you never seemed troubled before.”

“The lady in question was run over by a police car” George offered, frowning in disgust, and Arthur could see all the PR questions related to it. “A patrol went through a red light – they didn’t have the siren on, or the lights. ther's going to be an enquiry, and all sorts of things, so Annis thinks you must sign the card yourself – a reminder that the government cares and that it won’t go unpunished.”

Arthur sighed and nodded.

“Yes, sure. Just hand me the card and I’ll name it and sign it before the meeting with Norfolk.”

George left without another word as Arthur set to eat. His lady wife was already at the table, as was his eldest daughter, but there was no sign of the youngest.

“Where’s Elena?” he asked, sitting down.

“God knows” Vivian chirped, her voice high and nasal. “That girl has always been troublesome, I can’t understand what’s wrong with her! She’s nothing like Sophia.” She gave her eldest a small smile that young Sophia returned. At eleven, she was beginning to lose her baby fat, but she still had the same pretty round face that she had as a toddler. It was a shame that while she looked like a renaissance angel, she was growing up to be as spoiled and annoying as her mother.

Arthur decided that it was in his best interest to just have his breakfast without speaking anymore, he wasn’t going to give Vivian any other reason to start complaining. He wished that it would be enough to shut her up, but he wasn’t that lucky. The woman went on and on about various things as he gave her polite and impersonal answers, but she didn’t seem to find anything amiss in that – well, if she hadn’t noticed it in ten years, he couldn’t honestly expect her to find it weird now.

It was a few minutes before Elena showed up, her clothes completely ruffled and a bit of grass in her hair. She gave them a sunny smile as she came to the table, but it soon vanished under Vivian’s unending stream of critics. Still, she sat down and ate as ladylike as she managed, and as her mother rolled her eyes and shook her head – soon to be followed by Sophia – father and daughter shared an amused look.

Usually, he was the first to rise from the table, but as he started to excuse himself, George came back carrying a card. Arthur barely glanced at it before picking up the pen to sign, as he turned to his PA.

“What is the receiver’s name?”

“Merlin Emrys” George said, his voice composed. The name meant nothing to Arthur, and he almost shrugged it off as someone irrelevant, but something led him to go on. “And what was her name? Her maiden name, I’m guessing she was Mrs. Emrys of late.”

The man checked his phone for a moment before replying.

“Ms. Morgana LeFay”.

It was just a name, but it might as well have been a declaration of war. He felt more than saw Vivian growing stiff at the sound of the name, but it was dulled by the sudden ache he felt. He hadn’t seen Morgana in over sixteen years – they hadn’t been friends since _before_ he and his father had become heirs to the throne, since before the death of his uncle and cousins – and yet, he had loved her once.

Through the gap of years he could hear the sound of her laugher and the angry tone in her voice when they had fought – the single time they had met _after_. Arthur had always meant to apologize, but he never found the time, so he never did. Now his chance was gone, after far more than a decade of silence. Still, it felt wrong to send it all away forever with an impersonal card as if they had barely met – Morgana had been his friend, she had kept him grounded, she had even been his lover for one night.

“When is the funeral?” he heard himself asking George.

“This afternoon at her parent’s old house” the man offered immediately.

“And where is it?” he asked, rising from the table and looking away from his family.

“You can’t be thinking of going” said Vivian, and there was cold anger in her voice.

Most of the times, Arthur wouldn’t bother to answer her – it was none of her concern what he would be doing or not. He made continuous efforts to keep the peace, for he had always been taught that he must keep a facade of calm even when he didn’t feel it and that royal couples should keep their problems behind closed doors. But not this time – this time he couldn’t just stay silent and ignore.

“I’ll do what I think is best and fitting to my position and commitments” he answered, his voice stern. “And so should you, Vivian. Don’t you have an schedule to attend to?”

The woman rose from the table, her cheeks stained with anger.

“I can only hope that you remember where you _committed_ yourself”

Arthur could see George’s eyebrows getting lost under his hair from surprise, while Sophia looked politely uninterested and Elena gaped at him.

“She’s dead, Viv” he reminded her, tiredly, the sorrow spreading through him like poison. “She was one of my few _true_ friends and she died, before her time, in a terrible accident involving a deviant police car.”

His wife merely rolled her eyes and left the room, her heels clanking loudly against the wood floors. Arthur counted himself lucky enough that she didn’t have the chance to slam the door.  He turned back to George, who had schooled his expression back to polite interest in his next move – he was best at it than most peers of the realm.

“Clear my schedule and find all the details for the funeral. I’ll pay my respects in person.”

“Right away, sir” he said, leaving at once to do his job.

All that was left for Arthur to do was wait.

* * *

 

They had all shared a bed during the night – it had been warm, safe and full of love. It was gone now, just like the dreams of laughter and camp nights that had filled his head. The reality was harsh and cold, even in the safe haven of his grandparent’s house.

Before he slept, aunt Morgause had led him away from the building, away from his siblings and into the wild woods that surrounded the property. There he had finally allowed himself to grieve as the earth shook under him, the tree roots being ripped apart from the soil, the leaves falling to the ground in an endless shower as he cried until he had no more tears. He had barely seen the fire and water inferno that his aunt had created after that, exhausted in mind and body.

The others had gone too – Em under Kara and his grandfather’s eyes and Freya and Tristan with Alice. Still, Mordred knew that none of them had needed to hide themselves so far in the woods and that his grandparents would never be able to keep him safe from himself.  Only his father or Morgause would be able to hold him through it.

Much later, they had finally fallen asleep in the double bed that his parents used whenever they spent a few days at their grandparents'. Em had held Freya close, Tristan across the bed and Mordred facing the girls. There had been no space for his father, but he knew well enough that he wouldn’t sleep anytime soon, as he sat in the armchair and watched them fall asleep one by one.

Mordred had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder, lightning ripping through the sky and his father gone. The wild wind howled, shaking the glass against the wooden window frames, but he was not afraid of the storm, not even when it seemed that giant wings were flapping through the air over the house. He could feel his bones answering it, welcoming it, understanding it and he knew where it came from.

When they woke up, his father looked knackered, but calmer. His grandfather was looking at him, clearly worried, but grandmother just gave him more toast and a larger cup of tea. They lazed at breakfast; they didn’t need to rush to school today. It would be almost like a holiday, but instead of the cheerful air that holidays brought over to the house, it felt empty; as if something was missing. It was hard to breath. He spent most of the morning outside, walking around in the barely tamed grass and filling his lungs with as much oxygen as he could.

They had eaten sandwiches for lunch, while Alice prepared more food when people started to arrive. Some of them were familiar faces – his other grandmother came and held his father for a long time while he sobbed in her arms, but his godfather came to him first. Even in such dark moments, Will managed to cheer him up. Gwen and Lance arrived soon after, and Mithian with Kara and Kay. His nephew seemed particularly lost, but it distracted Freya and that was good enough for Mordred. A few of Em’s friends showed up, comforting her, and all of Tristan’s football team.

It hadn’t occurr to Mordred to tell anyone about what had happened; he didn’t want to share his pain with anyone else. Only his aunt and his older sister had seen him cry, and he knew that neither Morgause nor Kara would ever tell a soul.

Some of the guests he had never seen before – old friends and colleagues, people that knew Morgana LeFay but never knew Morgana Emrys. He felt a bit angered every time one of those would come up to them to offer their condolences, for they knew nothing of what they had lost, nothing of his mother, the one that had cared for them day and night for years, who would yell at them only to cover them in kisses and sweet words afterwards.

They had set the casket in the reading room. Mordred had taken a look at it when it arrived. It was weird – it had all of his mother's surface signs, but there was something deeply lacking, the thing that had made her more than a shape, but his own mother. He didn’t feel like staying in the room after that, although he saw that Morgause, Em and his Father would never walk far from it. It made Mordred feel queasy – he wanted to scream at them that it was just a corpse, just some random rotting flash and not his mother, not anymore, but he knew it would be a bad idea.

He was standing in the porch when the first unfamiliar car showed up. He felt a chill all over his bones as he saw four men coming out of it. They were wearing suits much like a few of the other guests, but their posture was different, and they had earpods. Mordred could see the shadow of guns under their suits. For a second, he felt like running inside and warning his family to run away, that they had been discovered, that they would be taken to be experimented on – they had all heard tales of the strange disappearances that had started when King Uther had risen to the throne, six years before. Then one of them looked straight at him, and he felt himself freeze, even as he tried to shout a warning in his head. The man put on a comforting smile that was somehow at odds with his stiff postured but fit in perfectly with his untamed curly hair and bushy beard.

“Hello” the man said, politely. “You’re the eldest Emrys boy, right?”

Mordred felt torn between assenting and running away, but as a second car stopped right after the first one, he knew they had little chance of escape if they wanted to get them, so he nodded.

“Don’t worry” said the man, kindly. “We just want to speak to your father or your grandparents – we came for the funeral.”

Mordred took a step back, but he couldn’t turn his back on them. A second later, his grandfather stepped outside. Someone must have caught on his alarm. He looked older and more tired than ever before, but there was something jovial in his voice when he called out for the men standing down.

“Leon” the old man called, a shadow of a smile on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It’s not a good time…”

The guard smiled back, his eyes full of understanding.

“We heard” he said, simply. “His highness is on his way to pay his respects. You know how it goes – we have to make sure that it is safe.”

“Sure, sure” said his grandfather, gesturing them inside. “Please come in. Why did his highness think…”

Mordred heard no more as they walked back inside – only one of the man waited by the cars. He looked serious and unmoved by the other people walking around and looking at them. Aunt Morgause came outside, stared at him for a long time, shooting daggers through her eyes, but the man didn’t even blink at it, not even when Uncle Cendred pulled her back inside. It had been strangely peaceful before their arrival, but now Mordred felt like squirming just from being that near to a man that, from what he understood, worked for the royal house. He walked to the backyard, as far as he could from the small groups of people talking in hushed tones, as if they were afraid to disturb Morgana from her sleep, but his mother would never wake up again.

He sat by himself under the shade of an oak that stood on the furthest edge of the backyard, not caring if his pants would get dirty. It was impossible to breath when everything was that crowded, so full of pain, and he felt better here, at the edge of the woods. Mordred never knew how long he sat there, but he supposed he must have dozed off, for he felt himself startle awake after a while.

It didn’t take him long to find out what had startled him – by his side he saw a beautiful woman – who looked just a bit younger than his mother. Most guests were wearing dark or neuter colored clothes, but she wore a red, long dress that covered her feet. Part of her long hair was braided over the crown of her head, and she seemed to have stepped out of time and right into the backyard. She was looking at him, her dark hair falling through her bare shoulders, as black and wavy as his mother’s, but even though she had the same deep blue eyes that Mordred shared with his father, there was something unnerving in her stare and in her strange posture.

“I am so sorry for you loss” she said, but there was a shade of a smile in her full red lips.

“Who are you?” he asked, fighting to control his voice.

“Does it matter?” her voice rang right inside his head, and he sat up straighter. “We’re kin. All of us.”

He said nothing in return, he couldn’t think of what to say to that strange woman.

“Still, your mother’s death heralds the beginning of a new age – no more hiding, no more fear…” She looked over to where the rest of the people were, and her smile grew larger. “Uther may have sent his eyes even here, but he cannot see everything.”

Mordred felt even more confused hearing her talk, and he honestly didn’t have the time for it. He raised himself from the ground and tried to clean his pants. He didn’t see Em walking up to them.

“Hello” she said, looking at the woman. “Can I help you?”

Mordred glanced from one to the other, amazed. It seemed that no one else noticed them, not even as the woman bowed in front of Enmyria as if she was a queen of old.

“The question should be, can _I_ help you” the woman shot back at her.

“Not unless you can turn back time” was Em’s hard reply, and the woman nodded.

“I see that I have come too soon” she announced, seeming to have completely forgotten about Mordred. “I shall see you again when the time is right.”

Enmyria snorted at that, shaking her head and muttering something.

“Take care of yourself, young lady” she said, with a smaller bow. “And you” she went on, turning back to Mordred. “Stand by your sister’s side, as you should. Things will be easier if you do – until then…”

“Mordred! Em!” Kara’s voice rang loudly through the open space, and they spun around at once to see her coming. “Come inside!”

When Mordred looked back, the woman was gone.

“Nutter” his sister whispered, looking at the empty spot, and then she turned to him. “Well, it can’t be helped, we’ll have to go.”

With that, she started to walk back inside – Mordred was only too happy to follow.

* * *

 

There was nothing that Merlin wanted half as much as he wanted this day to be over. In some ways, he couldn’t even wish for Morgana to be alive again more than he wished for the funeral to end – he didn’t want to fear that this day would repeat itself, that he’d have to see her die again, not even in a hundred years. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but it had to be done. If they would wait for him to come to terms with his loss, they’d be waiting for a really long time.

He was glad to have so many friends and family around, at least. Alice and Gaius’ practicality had meant that he didn’t have to trouble himself with the arrangements; Gwen had stood by the children as long as she could, and even Morgause had helped. He felt completely numb, and not even the sudden arrival of the Prince of Wales in flesh and blood had managed to stir anything inside him other than some small annoyance for everything it meant.

It was time, now. Time to say his last goodbye, and perhaps a prayer then to close the lid forever on his life with Morgana. No one else could do this for him, no one would dare speak in his stead. He had been her husband for twelve years, he had fathered all of her children, even Em, who was not of his own blood. Merlin felt a fresh pang of pain as they all gathered around him, Freya’s white dress stained with grass, Mordred’s formal dark blue clothes, Tristan in a simple grey shirt while Kara and Em stood by him in black dresses.

He took a deep breath, unsure of how to start and what to say, even though he had stood by her for long years and had known her as much as anyone could possibly know her. Some parts of Morgana would forever remain a mystery to them all. He looked around the assembled guests, barely seeing them as people, but as an expectant mass trying to steal his very breath. Merlin hadn’t felt so unsure since he had been a teenager, and now as then, he looked for his mother to steady him through it.

Hunith’s eyes were darker than his, and yet, they seemed as clear as pure water, full of compassion, affection and strength that she never ceased to give him. He could feel himself drowning in gratitude for her, and emotions chocked up his throat as he looked away from her, needing more but not daring to show it. Everyone was waiting for him, and yet, he couldn’t – the finality of it was too crushing. Amidst the indistinct shape of heads and bodies that pressed too close, his eyes fixed on a pair of light blue ones that, impossibly, seemed to understand just how much was being asked of him and how hard it was. As those eyes, that he didn’t even bother to identify, gave him an encouraging nod, he finally started to speak.

“Morgana was my wife for twelve years” he said, fighting with every word to control his voice. “It was not nearly enough. Throughout all the years we’ve been – we were – together, I was constantly amazed by her. Each time I thought I knew everything that was to know about her, she showed me that I was wrong. She was a mystery, Morgana, but she was _my_ mystery and I wish I could have spent thousands of years trying to fit all the pieces of her puzzle together.”

His voice faltered, and two of his children stepped closer, touching him, their hands wrapped around him, something to go on for.

“Her death was a shock for all of us – Morgana was just ready to start a new chapter of her life, taking the QTS to fulfill her ambition of teaching children. She had always had strong views on education and its importance, and she was eager to be part of it. She was on her way to her test when she died. I expected to be celebrating today – and yet…”

“I wouldn’t change a thing” he said, finally, his voice firm. “Even knowing how it would end, I would do it all over again. Morgana’s presence in my life was a blessing, as I am sure that it was for all of you” he could see people muttering and nodding in agreement. “There’s no way to explain to those who never knew her just how special she was; and yet; each of us that stand here today knows just how much she was worth.” His eyes locked with Morgause’s, and as he saw the approval there, he knew he could do it. “Morgana had a very special gift, the gift of seeing through us and helping people find out who they really were, what they really want. She wasn’t perfect – she often couldn’t use her abilities on herself, and sometimes her temper would get the best of her; but her faults only made her even more lovable. When I first met her, she was fierce and terrifying” and those words hit home so well that he could see smiles and small sounds of amusement spreading. “But as I got to know her, I saw that she was much more than that – she was steel and silk, all wrapped together, cutting and soft in turn, in a myriad of shades that, although I tried to capture it with my camera, I could never fully catalog.”

He took a deep breath as he got ready to finish his speech.

“I am terrible with words, and I can’t find any that truly express how much she will be missed by me and by all of us here. Maybe it would take a new Shakespeare to express such feelings, with new and fresh words, but I am no poet – I am simply a man who mourns for his best friend, for his wife, for the mother of his children and for the days that will never come. I can’t ever presume to know how each of you feels, so all I can do is ask each of you to step ahead and share a remembrance of yours with her and hope the memory of better days helps us all to lighten the grief.”

He had told his children in advance of how he had thought best to finish it, and they had liked the idea, soon thinking back on what they could possibly say. Freya was the first to go, her face bright red with shyness and tears falling from her eyes as she spoke about gardening together a few weeks back. Tristan soon stepped over to tell the story of how Merlin had helped him to prepare his mother a few drinks in order to calm her from the anxiety of exams. Mordred was short, just a few words about late night conversations. Em’s tale of the first time her friends had seen Morgana at school captured a few laughs.

Gaius spoke of the day they had found her, left on their doorstep and the joy that it was. Alice smiled as she shared anecdotes about the first time they went shopping for tampons. Morgause spoke of the desperation and pain of the few years she spent apart from her family and how much she had missed her sister. The children had ended all their stories saying “let this memory lighten the grief”, and so did the rest.

And then it never ended, so many stories, and it was almost as if she was with them once again. Some of the tales were touching, some were funny, but all of them dripped with the essence of Morgana. One of the royal bodyguards stepped forward to speak of the day she had managed to talk him into drinking a whole bottle of tequila straight up, and he caught himself looking at the man and wondering – he had blond hair, just like Em's, but his was too curly and a bit more reddish. Who knew? Morgana had vowed that he never would know.

Dozens of different Morganas appeared through their voices – a sister, a daughter, a friend, a mother, a rival, a colleague… The body in the casket seemed too small to hold all of it. It was easier to cry now, now that their eyes were away from him. He was just another sad soul in the midst of many, one that could lose itself in the familiar rhythm as his mother lead the prayer even if Morgana had never liked religious displays.

Then it was easy, too easy, to end it all, to close the casket, locking her in. Those frail bones would never be enough to hold so much life, and it had burst out and spread through the whole universe.

* * *

 

As everyone else left, walking back to Gaius’ house, Merlin stayed. He had done his part, and now he was left with nothing, just a giant hole in the space where duty had been – where love had been. He had sent Will and his mother away saying that he needed time for himself, and not even the children had been allowed to stay.

He took off his shoes and allowed his feet to touch the grass. It was still wet from the storm he had summoned, a replica of his tears. They felt fresh and alive under his soils, and it seemed, for a moment, the only reminder of life between the valley of death that his life had become.

Dead dreams, dead hopes, dead futures – all flickering out of sight like candles whose fire goes out in the wind even when there’s still wax to burn. It seemed to have hit him as well as Morgana, and he no longer knew what to do.

When he finally left her final resting place, ready to walk back to Gaius’ he saw that someone had been waiting for him under a tree almost out of his line of sight. For a moment, he thought it was Will, keeping vigil for him as Merlin had done for him when his parents died, twenty years before, but as the person stood up and walked into the sun to face him, he saw that the man was too tall and too golden to be his oldest friend.

Before this afternoon, Merlin had never seen the prince in person, but there was no mistaking him. His posture was rigid, but he didn’t stand as tall as the pictures had led Merlin to believe. He knew that for a while Gaius had worked for the royal family as he stepped down from his position as Head of St. Mary; around the time that Morgause and Morgana had been in University. The late queen, King Uther’s mother, had been fond of him. Still, it didn’t explain the man’s presence in Morgana’s funeral.

Merlin had no idea what he was meant to do or say as he reached the other man; but the prince saved him from making a fool of himself by speaking first.

“I never shared my memory” he said, his voice low but powerful. Now Merlin could see the royal bodyguards at a respectful distance, too far to listen, but near enough to protect Arthur from anyone that might wish him harm – except, maybe, Merlin himself.

“I never knew you two had known each other” he said, honestly. The man shook his head, a sad smile on his face.

“We went to University together for a while” Arthur’s voice was filled with nostalgia. “Gaius introduced us then.”

Merlin nodded, not sure of what to say.

“It was before” Arthur explained, needlessly. “Before the deaths, when I was just…”

“A duke?” Merlin asked, something of amusement finally springing up in him. The idea that being a “duke” was something that could be described as “just a duke".

“My father was Duke of York, but I had no personal title” corrected Arthur, politely. “I was by far too young and too unimportant for that.”

Of course, this sounded like absolute nonsense, but it would take far too much energy to argue the point with Prince Arthur – and, of course, it might be a bit impolite.

“Were you well acquainted?” he asked, non-concomitantly.

Arthur turned towards him, his eyes softer than before.

“We were friends.” They walked a few more steps in silence. “Morgana… She didn’t care about who I was. To her, I was Just Arthur; never anything else. She kept me grounded – you could say that giving me a reality check was one of her favorite pastimes.”

Arthur let out a small laugh at that, surely remembering something, and Merlin couldn’t avoid a smile. It was so like his wife to throw unpalatable truths into other people’s faces when they least expected, not caring about social niceties. She had learned some caution over the years, but he could still picture how harsh she would have been at her late teens or early twenties.

“She did that” he agreed, finally.

Arthur turned to him, a longing smile on his perfect lips. It melted, slowly, and his eyes grew sadder as he watched him. Merlin wondered just how miserable he looked, and suddenly felt colder, as if the only warmth in the world had come from the prince’s expression.

“We had a fight” the man confided, finally. “And she never spoke to me again. She was right, of course, but I just couldn’t… I always thought I would have time to make things right, one day, when we’re both old or something. My grandmother used to tell me that we, young people as she called me, always thought we had all the time in the world. I thought I had stopped doing that when she died, but…”

Arthur shrugged, and Merlin felt himself stiffen. He could understand it very well, although they had not really argued on the last night, it had been chilly and full of silence.

“My remembrance was about that last day” Arthur went on, eventually. “I had just learned of my uncle and my cousin’s deaths, and I was… The burden was too crushing. I had never wanted it, I had never thought of being pushed into the position I am in now. We… My family, it isn’t like the others. We weren’t close, and we didn’t share moments, but… It’s all about duty. We live our lives in duty, and I dreamed of something different for me. I wanted to be normal, but I knew, then, that I never would be normal again.”

“She came up to me, and she had… some problems to share, but I didn’t care to hear them. I was too deep into my own misery and my own problems to even listen to her. Morgana was never patient, and she lost her temper. She told me to stop complaining – she threw all my privilege back in my face, but I thought she didn’t understand what I was about to give up, what would be demanded of me. She called me overdramatic and weak – she said that if I couldn’t step up to what life gave me I wasn’t the man she had thought I was and left.”

Merlin had no idea what to make of the man’s story, but he couldn’t imagine her doing anything else.

“I never saw her again. I never knew what the problem that she had wanted to tell me about was… But she was right.” Arthur stopped, and Merlin stopped as well. The prince had turned to face him. “I was not the man she thought I was – even though it was the man I wanted to be. And, finally, I had the chance – the chance to do things, even through the burden. I thought it could drown me, but she knew I could face it if even when I thought I couldn’t. Morgana never had the time for cowards or those who wail in self-pity and lose themselves.” He was serious, his voice hard like iron. “She would expect you to rise to the challenge of her absence and do everything – everything you know you have to, even the things you never thought you could – she would never have married you if she didn’t think you were capable of that much, and I am sure she was right about you, even if she was wrong about me.”

It was at the same time a scolding and a consolation, just like Morgana would have done herself. She clearly had spread her talents amongst the people she had known – Gwen, his children and now even Arthur showed traces of it.

“Thanks” he answered, his voice small and subdued. He fought against the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“I won’t impose on you anymore” said the Prince, with a nod, retreating back from the way he had been a moment ago, his public persona rising in its place. “But feel free to contact if there’s ever any need. The royal house is in your service in this terrible hour.”

He gave Merlin a firm hand-shake and walked faster, catching up with the bodyguards, while Merlin could only stare and wonder if he, too, was to be as much of a  disappointment to the memory of his wife as Arthur thought himself to be.


	6. The World Never Stops (10 Weeks P. M. D. - Post Morgana Death)

Merlin felt as if he had just fallen asleep when the alarm rang. He rose at once, fighting against the never ending tiredness that seemed to engulf him. He walked inside the shower only to find out that they were out of hot water, again. At least it must mean that the kids had already gotten up.

He got to the kitchen to find Freya spilling milk over her glass – she was clearly still struggling with pouring it herself. Mordred was putting things inside his rucksack, and he picked up a cloth to clean the mess that his daughter had left on the table.

“Morning” she said, happily. “I was making breakfast!”.

“You could have asked for help” he told her, mixing up the chocolate powder inside the milk.

“I made toast” Tristan announced, walking back inside the room.

“This isn’t toast” Mordred pointed out, gesturing towards the pile of burnt bread. “They’re almost coal.”

“They’re fine” reassured Merlin, picking one of them and eating in spite of the fact that Mordred had a point. “But you aren’t meant to use the oven.”

“Em lighted it up for me” said Tristan.

“And where is she?”

“Upstairs”, provided the boy while Mordred poured himself some cereal. “Do you want toast, Freya?”

The girl made a face, staring at the food.

“I made my milk” she announced, happily as her sister walked in.

“For you or for the table?” Em asked, picking up her things. “I’m leaving.”

“No, no, wait a second” said Merlin. “I have something for you – all of you.”

“Is it a dog?” piped up Tristan, happily.

“Of course it’s not a dog…”

Mordred’s voice faded as he walked out and picked up the bag he had bought the previous evening. The children were still arguing as he walked back inside, but they all stared as they saw him coming. Merlin handed a box to each of the three younger ones and stopped in front of his step-daughter, giving her a small smile.

“I hope this is the one you wanted” he said, and she seemed curious and pleased, but Mordred certainly was not.

“What is this?” he asked, staring at the box.

“It’s a cell phone, silly” offered Freya, grinning, but Mordred paid her no heed, his eyes on his father.

“Mom said no phones before Stage Four!” he reminded them, crossing his arms.

“She’s not here, is she?” pointed out Tristan, annoyed. Merlin still felt a pang every time someone pointed it out.

“Thanks, Dad!” Em was thrilled with her new gadget.

“Still!” said the older boy, looking even angrier now. “I don’t want it.”

Merlin took a deep breath. He had known Mordred would oppose it, but it was for the best.

“Yes, I know she said that” he temporized, sitting down on the table. “But she’s gone, Mordred”, Merlin said, his voice soft. “She’s gone and I’m alone with the four of you. What if something happens? What if you need help, if there’s an emergency and my mobile is dead or I don’t hear it? What _then_?” He stared right into his son’s eyes. “She didn’t want you to become dependent of them, but I think she would understand why we need them now.”

“We don’t need phones, we have _gifts_ ” said the boy, and Merlin’s face was transformed by pity.

“You don’t need a phone” he agreed, nodding. “But what of your siblings? What of people that aren’t quite as talented as you, that can’t hear you properly or can’t reply? Or, even better, what of your godparents, your uncle? Would you give up their help just because they are not… _like_ you?”

Mordred said nothing, but Merlin could feel his resistance melting slowly.

“You have no fancy plans, no internet” he announced, and Enmyria made an outraged sound. He turned to her for a single moment. “I made no changes to _your_ line, but _please_ try not to go over your limits.” The girl nodded, staying silent. “This is for emergencies, and it isn’t a toy. I have already set some numbers to it – mine, your grandparent’s, Morgause’s, Kara’s...”

“I think we should vote” said Mordred, finally. “We vote, and we choose together – the school can call any of them, I’ll handle the numbers, and if something happens… But not you, dad, we know what _you_ think is best.”

“All right” said Merlin, knowing it would be pointless to press the point and force Mordred to keep it against what he thought was “fair”. “All in favor of you keeping the mobiles raise your hand” Tristan and Freya raised theirs, but Em seemed torn and Mordred didn’t move, as he knew he wouldn’t. Merlin had expected the girl to side with him, but she might have felt too keenly the loss of what had, until then, been her privilege.

“It’s a tie” said Mordred, seriously, but it was Tristan who rose, angry.

“No it’s not; half-sisters only get half a vote.”

His words shocked Merlin to the core, never before had any of them made any difference between themselves, but he didn’t have the time to scold him for long just then, for Em had turned on her heels and ran out, slamming the door.

“I’ll bring her back and you’ll apologize” he warned, stomping away.

The girl had already walked half the street by the time he reached her, tears streaming down her face. Thrice he called, but she didn’t turn, not until he made her, holding her shoulder.

“Em… I’m sorry” he said, but she shook her head, fighting against his embrace.

“He’s _right_ ” she choked between her sobs. “I am _not_ their sister – that is _not_ my house; it is _yours_ and I’m a… a… a…” Her eyes shone golden under the tears. “You’re _not_ my father!” she shrieked, angry, and Merlin felt as if he had stuck his finger inside a socket and let go of her.

“I am not” he agreed,  his voice soft. “You’re right, I’m not, but, please, Em, control yourself before someone…”

She nodded, sniffling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she started, but he never let her finish.

“It’s alright, it’s alright”, he stepped closer to her again. “It doesn’t matter” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

Enmyria didn’t stop crying, not for a few minutes, but she didn’t fight him either. He didn’t know what he could do or say to fix it – if he could ever fix it. All their lives had been shattered, and they had been walking around in shards for too long, they were bound to wound themselves at some point.

“I don’t have anyone” she said, finally. “They… They have _you_ , but I don’t. I don’t really have anyone; not even… Mom wasn’t really Gaius’ and Alice; nor was Morgause… I don’t have anyone.”

“It’s not true” he whispered, but she shook her head, and he knew he would never manage to convince her otherwise. This was exactly the kind of reaction he had feared when he urged Morgana to share with her daughter the secret of her birth; but she was gone now, and so was her knowledge.

“I want my father” Em replied, taking a step back. “My _real_ father. I want to know where I belong.”

“You belong with us” Merlin insisted, but she shook her head.

“Not anymore” she muttered, “Please, please. I just want… I need… To know that I have someone that is my own.”

Merlin couldn’t deny her that, but he also couldn’t help her.

“We will try. Come home and let Tristan apologize, and then we will try.”

Yet, even as he said it, he felt sure that it was just an empty reassurance.

* * *

 

Through the long years of his marriage, Gaius and Alice had always been a steady support for them, and it was no different now that Morgana was gone. They were both too old to come and go or help with the children and the house – and Morgause had, unexpectedly, decided it was her duty to do so anyway – but they were always there to listen and help with the children’s everyday troubles and Merlin’s unending self-doubts.

It was hard, harder than anything he had ever dreamed, to be alone and accounting for so much. It weren’t only the bills and house duties that were completely on his hands now, but also the children’s emotional well-being; and as it was, he wasn’t always sure of what he should do. He had punished Tristan harshly for his cruel words, but he knew it would do little to ease Enmyria’s pain.

Merlin himself had grown up without his father, and his own mother never wished to talk about the subject. He knew that the man had left before knowing about Hunith’s pregnancy, but he spent his whole youth without knowing _why_ he had left in the first place. He could understand Em’s issues all too well – he had felt them all, in his own way – and even after he accepted that as something he would never know, it had been a relief to find out more about his father.

That, of course, had been thanks to Gaius – the old man had taken pity on Merlin as he had with his own children. He didn’t believe in secrets when it comes to blood ties, and him and Morgana had argued over it many a time. Unlike some adoptive parents, he never concealed the truth from his daughters, and as soon as Morgause had turned sixteen, he had handed her everything he could find about her birth mother. Of course, it meant the girl had met the woman that had given her up, and it seemed to have hardened her heart against such things – and Morgana’s as well, by proxy. It hadn’t been a happy reunion. On Morgana’s birth they knew much less, and although they had tried to gather information, it was harder to discover something about a baby left on your door than it was about a child adopted through regular channels, even when you had secret connections with all sorts of people, magical and non-magical. When she finished University, Morgana had taken the matter in her own hands and ran away in search for answers, but if she ever found any, she never shared with any of them.

The same way, Gaius had told Merlin as much as he could about his father – how he had been an elite soldier and left his mother for duty; his many honorable actions on the field of war and his eventual exile, betrayed by his own country after magic’s fall from grace. They had fought to find his whereabouts, and Merlin had managed, finally, to meet him for the first time about a year after Tristan’s birth. He had taken his whole family to Montenegro, where he had been living for the last few years of his life.

It had been a good time, a happy reunion, and his parents had wept for a long time in each other’s arms. The two boys had enchanted Balinor, and for a few days, everything had been blessedly happy. They had even dared to plan for his father’s return to the west, his mother ready to settle with him in Ireland. Unfortunately, his father’s considerable power and iron-hard honor had made him a number of enemies. Balinor fell into an ambush as he came back home from their hotel, a couple of days before they were planned to leave. Only his ashes had seen Britain again.

It had hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The whole thing had brought him closer to Gaius, who made sure that Merlin would never miss a father’s attention again. He had grown to love Morgana’s adoptive father as if he were his own, and it was to him that he turned now when he didn’t know what to do with his children.

“Tristan apologized and he’s grounded” he told the old man over the phone. “But it doesn’t matter much, does it? Em won’t rest until she had found out more about her father, not after that.”

“I have often told Morgana that her secrecy was bound to create problems, but she would not listen” even from far away, he could picture his face, the way he would raise is eyebrow disapprovingly and shake his head. “Yet, she wouldn’t tell us a thing about it, she just showed up after two years of complete silence with a toddler in her arms. I don’t think that she spoke of it even with Morgause, and that’s saying something, they always shared everything. All we ever knew about it was what was in the birth certificate – that she was born in Strabane, on March, 25th – which you already know. We wondered, worried about it, how and what could possibly have caused her to be so secretive, but apart from guaranteeing that the pregnancy had come from a consensual relationship, Morgana never said anything.”

“That’s all she ever told me about it” agreed Merlin. “Except from the night before… She asked me to promise not to tell a word to Enmyria about her father, and that she never wanted us to meet – she was acting weird on that night. I arrived late, and she was once again writing in her journal…” It was a slap on his face – so obvious; he wondered how he hadn’t thought of that before. “That’s it, Gaius! Her _journals_! It may be that I’ll find something there!”

The old man grunted.

“Don’t get your hopes up” he warned. “She may have left a few clues over it, but she was too careful with this secret to have it written down. Still, it may lead to something.”

“I’ll look over them” Merlin said, feeling an anxious energy. “I’ll tell you later if I find something out.”

“Good luck” called the man, before hanging up.

Less than 10 minutes later, Merlin had Morgana’s old journals all over the bed, decided to find out as much as he could.

* * *

 

Merlin had no idea how long he had been busy with the diaries when the doorbell rang. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, so he was deeply surprised by the sound. As he raced downstairs, he wondered who it could possibly be.

He opened up the door to find a woman in her late thirties, with a serious look on her face. She was dressed in a business suit, her dark hair braided and set in a bun.

“Mr. Emrys?” she asked, a strong welsh accent marking her words.

“Hello” he said, unsure, but the woman was flashing her card at him.

“I’m Helen DeMora, from child’s services” she said, holding up her identification. “I would like to talk to you about Ms. LeFay.”

For a moment, a wild moment, Merlin wondered what this woman could possibly want to talk about Morgana before realizing that she must be speaking of the daughter, not the mother.

“Of course, come in” he said, trying not to worry about the general state of the house. Considering that he was alone with four children, he’d say he was doing well, but government officials could be picky over the smallest things. He walked her over to the living room, and gestured for her to seat.

Unsurprisingly, the woman chose the arm chair that he generally used, and Merlin had no choice but to sit on the couch. It was the obvious way to remind him that although it was his house, she was the one that had the power on the situation.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, wearily.

“I’d say there are a few of them” was the answer, cold and formal. “Am I right to assume that you are the current guardian of Enmyria LeFay?”

“I am.”

“But there are no documentation for this” she pointed out. “Her mother didn’t appoint you her legal guardian in case of death.”

“I don’t think Morgana planned on dying” was his answer, his eyes turning hard. “So she wouldn’t, yes.”

“There is a document, though” the official said, picking up a paper. “It states that in case of need, the care of the child should be left to her adoptive sister, Ms. Morgause LeFay.”

Merlin took a good, long look at the will. It bore a date around two months before Enmyria’s birth.

“That is an old paper” he said, shrugging. “Em wasn’t even born yet, and Morgause was her only family. It was years before me and Morgana met, before we got married. I have been taking care of Enmyria since she was four.”

The woman nodded, seriously.

“Yes, and this is why no measures were taken to enforce her will. Still, some recent events have made us wonder if it weren’t in Enmyria’s best interest to hand over her care to her aunt.”

“What events?” he asked, running his hand through his hair.

“There was a formal complaint from her school” Helen handed him another paper “about Enmyria’s continuous absences.”

His eyes scanned through the paper quickly, noticing the incredible numbers they showed since Morgana’s deaths.

“We have tried to contact you before” went on the woman. “But we weren’t successful in our attempts – the calls weren’t returned and our telegrams were ignored.”

“I haven’t received anything” he mumbled, worried. “I don’t know – this can’t be right. I drop her at school every day. She comes home, complains of her homework, studies for her tests…”

“Are you sure?” asked the woman, point blank. “Because it doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“So, what now?” Merlin wondered. “What will you do now?”

“This is a formal warning, Mr. Emrys” said the officer. “Shall the next month show us the same irregularity on her school attendance; we will be forced to hand her custody over to someone else. You have three other kids to take care of, and it would be better for the girl to be properly cared for.”

“This is her home and her family” he said, standing up. “And she will remain here. I will talk to her and find out exactly why she had been missing classes. Do not worry, Ms. DeMora, you won’t need to resort to extraordinary measures.”

“Let’s hope so” said the woman, proudly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Emrys.”

Her words made him stop to consider the hour for the first time since he had taken the box with Morgana’s old journals. He walked her to the door and called Kara to warn her that he wouldn’t go to the studio during that day, to which the girl only snorted saying that she had figured it out. It had happened before, and increasingly more since Morgana’s death.

At least he wasn’t late to pick the children up from school – not that he had to worry, since Morgause would drive them, except for Enmyria, who was supposed to be in orchestra practice, but if she weren’t at school, only the gods knew where she was.

Slowly, he went back to his bedroom, deciding to find more clues about Morgana’s mysterious pregnancy.

* * *

 

Morgause was often thankful for Mordred, even more so when comparing him to his siblings. He was a proper child, not too noisy and always polite; and respectful too. Still, she often considered that he was a complete wonder since neither of his parents could be called terribly proper. The one thing he had inherited from them, though, beyond the pale-skin-dark-hair-blue-eyes look was his tremendous magical ability. She often had to hide a smile when he offered to take more bags than he should be able to carry and did so as if they weighted nothing, defying the no-magic rule right under his father’s nose.

Yet, his helpfulness could not curb her temper, not on that day. She had been around as much as she could for months, doing everything she always hated to do – shopping, cooking, helping with homework, babysitting… She had done it out of love, out of a need to be useful, to keep Morgana’s children well and happy. And on the first chance he got, Merlin had stabbed her in the back.

She couldn’t march inside the house as she wanted to when she was carrying so many bags, but she did drop them on the table with an exaggerated motion. Freya and Tristan had run before them, and were excitedly talking as they put their belongings in place, their tone too loud for her taste. Merlin appeared on the bottom of the stairs, looking inside the kitchen.

“Hello” he said, but before Morgause could say everything that had been stuck in her throat ever since the kids had first climbed in the car, Freya had his attention.

“Gwen sent us DVDs!” the little girl claimed, dancing on her toes. “Can we see them?”

“I don’t know. What is it?” he asked, as Tristan grabbed the films. A single look showed Morgause that it was some Disney crap.

“Your mother wouldn’t approve” she warned, her voice chilly, but neither child took notice of her.

The man took a quick look through the different options and nodded.

“Watch with us, dad!” asked Freya, a smile on her face. “You need to watch with us!”

“Go and put it on, I’ll be there soon” he said, ruffling her hair. The two younger children ran to the living room, but Mordred seemed unsure.

“Mom never liked us to watch Disney movies” he said, glancing at his aunt.

“She never liked you to watch movies that she didn’t approve of” corrected his father, putting his hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “But she always trusted Gwen’s judgment.”

‘So that was how he had talked the children into such a betrayal’, Morgause thought. She felt herself getting even angrier as her nephew left to join the other kids.

“How much to I own you?” asked Merlin, finally turning to her.

“Nevermind that” darted Morgause, furious. “I hear you bought them mobiles!”

“What about it?” Merlin seemed completely nonchalant about the whole deal, which was even worse.

“You know well enough that Morgana had always been against it – children with phones!”

Merlin had the grace to look unhappy about it.

“It was different – everything was different. We need to be able to talk to them now, wherever they are…”

“There are _other ways_ ” she hissed, angry. “They’re all magical, and quite powerful,  they all can learn to communicate in silence!”

Merlin flinched as if the very word “magical” was a threat. It unnerved Morgause, she never understood his silly notion that magic was something to be avoided at all costs.

“They are too young for _that_ ” he said, finally. “It’s hard enough to keep it a secret as it is…”

“You worry too much.”

“And you too little” he lashed out. “Even if Mordred is good enough at it…”

“… He’s flawless” interrupted Morgause, but he went on anyway.

“…Even if Mordred is good enough at it, it is something that drains them – and not everyone they may need to talk to can be contacted that way.”

“I can – and so can you” she said, outraged. “That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“No” he said, finally. “It isn’t. We can’t be always at their disposal…”

“I can! Haven’t I been?”

“And hating every minute” he accused, closing his fists. “I appreciate it even more, because I know how much it costs you, but it is not _enough_. You can’t be here all the time – and you shouldn’t.”

It was as bad as if he had slapped her, the anger building inside her.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Do you even see what you’re doing now?” he asked, tiredly. “Again and again, you do everything to undermine my authority…”

“You’re betraying the memory…” she started, but the man had had enough.

“She’s gone” he half-shouted, full of frustration and anger. “I loved Morgana just as you did, but she’s gone, Morgause, and she wasn’t always right! She misjudged situations too, she…”

“Don’t you dare” the witch said, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t you dare speak against her, not after everything…”

“Morgause, Morgause” he said, his tone steady and harsh. “I thank you, I really do, for everything – the cleaning, the babysitting, the shopping – but don’t bother anymore, yeah? I’ll handle it myself.”

“You can’t even handle things _with_ my help” she snapped, out of patience. “What do you plan to do? Ask help from your ex-wife, always struggling to win you back? Or maybe _dear Gwen_ , that only Morgana couldn’t see that had always wanted to have what my sister had? Or that irresponsible foolish girl that can’t even put on a condom let alone…”

“That foolish irresponsible girl is my daughter” said Merlin, taking a step closer and facing her up. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Morgause could feel the waves of power radiating from him, fully on threatening mode, but she knew him too well to think he’d strike against her, which ruined the menacing effect he was trying to accomplish. She couldn’t hold back a sneer at his weakness.

“Would that I could” she spit back at him. “That terrible, terrible influence, and Enmyria wasn’t the best of girls to begin with…”

“Get out” he said, his whole body trembling, and for the first time in her life Morgause knew what it was like to be in fear of someone else’s power. There was nothing left of Merlin’s usually warm magical energy, it had been fully replaced by a cold wave that surrounded her even though he clearly wasn’t using any magic. It stood, as strong as an ice wall, blocking her from him and the children, and she had to take a step back to hold herself. For a second she wondered if Morgana had ever tasted it, the bitter smell of blood and danger that he had just summoned around him albeit unconsciously. It lasted only a moment, but she knew she would remember it for the rest of her life – she knew _this_ was the reason why their people would speak in shushed revering tones about Emrys’ and his gift.

She grabbed her purse, trying to hold her head up and not to show how she felt, turning around and heading towards the door. Mordred was standing in the small hall that lead from the door to the stairs, with the living room on one side and the kitchen on the other, but Morgause wouldn’t stop to talk to him now; it was good that he saw it, it was good that he knew what had been done. She was almost out when Merlin spoke again.

“Leave the house keys. You won’t come here without being a guest anymore.”

Morgause took a deep breath and reached for them inside her purse, but instead of handing them over or leaving them on the small table beside the door where they kept the correspondence, she merely dropped them on the floor.

‘Let him clean after his own mess’ she thought, her own fury burning hot.

 


	7. Trial and Failure (10 weeks P.M.D)

Merlin couldn’t avoid feeling ashamed of himself when he saw Mordred standing in the hallway. He hadn’t meant to argue with Morgause, but the woman was impossible, and the one thing that the children didn’t need was to see disunion between the family right now, especially Mordred, who had been so close to Morgana and who was Morgause’s favorite nephew.

“I am sorry that you had to hear that” he said to his son, unsure of what was the reaction going to be. He wanted to hold him – to comfort him over the new loss and to be comforted himself, but it had never been easy to touch Mordred as it was with the other children, he held himself apart and, of course, it was only growing worse as he tried to fight for his dignity as any other eleven-year-old.

The boy shrugged, still looking at the door.

“I didn’t mean you…” Merlin started, but Mordred interrupted him soon enough.

“Well, you should” he said, his voice stern. “Mom would have done it far earlier if it was the other way around.”

That surprised Merlin more than anything, and he could only look at the boy in wonder.

“What?”

“I love aunt Morgause” he said, his voice dutiful. “But she doesn’t know her own place – she…” Mordred finally turned and looked at his father. “She’s not our mother.”

It shocked Merlin somewhat, that the boy could in so few words explain what was the real issue in the situation.

“No, she isn’t” he muttered, feeling a bit better about his decision.

“Mom knew she was like that” Mordred went on, looking again at the door. “And they fought over it many times.”

There was nothing for the man to do but nod, he had seen it a number of times as well, but he could not discuss it with a child.

“She shouldn’t have spoken about them that way” Mordred went on, his hands turning into fists. “Gwen is really nice, and she’d never… She wouldn’t do what aunt Morgause was saying she would.” Merlin could only frown, he hadn’t expected that. “And she had no business speaking of Kara!”

Merlin took a step closer and put his hand on Mordred’s shoulder, it wouldn’t be good if his child decided to hold a grudge against his aunt. It seemed to have an almost immediate effect, for the boy looked at him, his expression gone from anger to neutrality.

“You promised you’d come and watch the movie with us” he reminded his father, seriously. “Mom would have liked it – it’s about a princess that doesn’t want to be married, so she decides to fight for herself.”

Merlin had very little option but to go to the living room and sit with the kids. It was, indeed, the kind of movie that Morgana would have approved of, there was much in common between his wife and the protagonist.

Still, he couldn’t be captured by it – every time he saw the princess with her wild curly hair, he pictured dark locks instead of red ones, every argument reminded him of Morgana and Enmyria’s fights, every gesture brought her back and further each moment. The kids were lost in the fantasy world, and it was a wonder. He watched them instead of the screen – the way Freya cheered, Tristan’s constant movements as if he could prevent the danger by helping the character, Mordred’s quiet stare. Em wasn’t home yet, but he knew she’d be in tears if she were with them.

Which led him to think of her again, the journals and the visit he had earlier, and think about what he should do when Enmyria returned.

* * *

 

Enmyria was tired by the time she finally arrived home – her arm ached and so did her shoulder, as they often would after the practice. Still, it was a good pain, she was used to it and it was somewhat sweet for it came from doing what she loved.

She ached for a long bath and some rest before she had to deal with her homework, but things weren’t as easy as that. She heard her name called the moment she shut  the door close, and had to make her way back down the steps. She had almost reached the living room when Merlin caught up with her.

“We need to talk” he said, and she knew something was wrong. He gestured towards the kitchen, and she followed, wondering what it was all about. Her step-father’s face was closed up and serious. The other kids stayed behind in the living room, and he had her sit in one of the chairs before walking to the other side of the table.

So he started to speak, about the official visit and the missing letters, and she knew she was in big trouble. He clearly tried to keep his calm, but she knew him well enough to know that he would want more answers than she could possibly give. How could she explain? She could barely hold the idea at bay, and just the memory of the humiliation was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“What do you have to say to explain yourself?” he demanded, finally, holding the back of the chair across from her.

“I go to school” she said, fighting to control her voice. “I just don’t go to registration, so they… I don’t know! I don’t go to registration and they think I’m not there.”

“Why don’t you go to registration?” he asked, and the very question made her cheeks burn from shame.

“I don’t want to” she said, shaking her head, looking away from him.

“Why the hell not?” snapped Merlin, his patience clearly limited.

“They keep asking who I am!” she finally yelled, allowing the emotions to break free. “You have to say who you are, and then… I don’t need to be reminded, ok? I don’t want to have to say it!”

Enmyria could see it in his face that he didn’t believe her.

“If you doubt me, phone the school – phone the teacher, the English teacher.”

“And why would I believe you?” he questioned, his hands on the table.

“Phone the English Teacher” she repeated, angry, trying to dry her face up with her hands.

“Why the _English_ Teacher?” Merlin darted back, suspicious.

“Any of them!” she replied, exasperated.

“What about the letters? Why didn’t I receive the letters and telegrams?” he asked, and she forced herself to shrug.

“Letters get lost.”

“Come on, Em” he said, disbelieving.

“What?” she shot back. “Are you saying that our house is the only house it can never happen?”

The man shook his head, and the girl rose up, trying to control herself.

“I’m tired” she said, sniffling. “And I have a History Essay to do.”

“Do you?” he asked, and she just turned on her heels and climbed the stairs.

Enmyria walked right inside the bathroom and locked herself in before shrieking in rage. She should have seen it coming, the visit. She had tried as much as she could to stop Merlin from finding out that the school was looking for him, but she forgot about the possibility of a visit. She took her clothes off as if they had been the ones who offended her and stepped inside the shower, the warm water mixing up with her tears.

Merlin would never understand what it was like to stand in front of all those people, and to see the look on their faces when they realized who she was – their pity, their shame. The first time it had happened, she had had to lock herself in the bathroom or she would cry in front of the whole school. Enmyria had been there for a while when she heard two girls walking into the bathroom talking about her – calling her ‘the orphan girl’ and speaking of how she had been left with no one after her mother’s death, how her mother was an orphan herself and her father MIA; how likely it was that Enmyria would drop out of school before the end of the year, knocked up herself.

It had been just talk, but it had burned her skin as hot iron would. Every time she walked down the halls, she could see them – whispering, looking at her, branding her with the same ideas and stories over and over again – and it had been too much, just too much. She had to get away, she had to find a place where she belonged and it wasn’t in those halls.

Em then had started to skip registration and arrive earlier in the classroom, so she wouldn’t have to walk among the other students. She sat far, in the corner of the room, always with her face already buried in a book, trying as much as she could to shield herself from the rest. Her friends, at least, had been amazing – they stood between her and the rest, and stood by her when she needed.

But it was not enough – she could still hear them, see them. One of the older guys, known as Ted for his bear-like appearance, carefree ways and slow words, came to offer her a joint on the other day, and she felt halfway tempted to accept. She longed to get away, turn herself off from this world where there was no place for her, but even the idea of drugs couldn’t appeal to her. Everyone seemed to expect her to go down that path, and she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

She turned off the shower, walking to her bedroom and picking up some clothes. She couldn’t stay here, it was not her home anymore as Tristan had pointed out earlier. It was time to go. Enmyria put a few clothes in her bag and ran down the stairs. Merlin was still in the kitchen, but she didn’t care – just as he didn’t and hadn’t noticed everything that had happened with her.

 She left the house and ran away without looking back.

* * *

 

Merlin had been lost in thought in the kitchen, wondering what he could and should do about Enmyria when he heard steps and the door swinging shut. He stood up, calling Enmyria’s name, and Mordred stepped out of the living room.

“She won’t answer” he said, seriously, handing Merlin his shoes. “Hurry!”

Merlin didn’t even stop to wonder what his son was about, hopping to put on one shoe and stumbling on the doormat. Mordred helped him to straight himself up as he tried to put on the second shoe and opened the door.

“You’re holding the fort now” he warned his son, running out.

Enmyria was almost at the corner, her school bag on her back. Merlin ran, but the girl heard the sound of his feet and ran as well. He was quite taller than her, but it didn’t matter for as soon as he turned the corner behind her, he saw her getting on a bus. He fished his mobile from his pocket and used the speed-dial to call Will.

“Hey, mate, can you come over? Em ran away, I left Mordred in charge” he said as soon as he heard his friend answer the phone.

“I’m on my way” he said, his voice serious.

“Cheers” Melin hung up, breaking up a jog.

 Still he ran behind the bus, trying to catch it up, but it was no good. He yelled her name again and again, but she just stood inside the vehicle, her eyes and ears closed to him. For a few blocks, Merlin tried to reach them, but eventually he had to give up.

On his way back, he phoned everyone – any and every person that he thought Enmyria might run to. Morgause shrieked against his ear, but he just turned off, moving on to the next person on the list. He arrived at the house to find Mordred sitting on the stairs, phone in hand and going over Morgana’s list of Em’s friends, Gwen on her mobile doing the same. He could hear Will’s voice speaking to Tristan and Freya, while he caught a glimpse of Lancelot moving around in the kitchen. He felt his heart swell at the sight, sure that he had the best friends in the world. Gwen moved towards him as soon as she saw him.

“We’re calling her friends” she said, gesturing to the little telephone book. “We’ve talked to Lisa and Beth, I just called Martha and Mordred is calling Lucy…”

“That’s the joke, isn’t it?” he said, tired and frustrated. “I don’t know who they are – I don’t know any of them. I don’t know where they live, who their parents are… Morgana knew all of that.”

Gwen put her hand on his back, comforting, and Mordred turned off his call, looking at him.

“Dad…” he said, and there was empathy in his tone.

“I'm fine” Merlin said, climbing the steps. “I just need the toilet.”

“Dad!” he said again, his tone unconvinced. Merlin didn’t look back, he couldn’t.

He closed the door behind him, taking long gulps of air and trying to calm himself down. He was a failure, a complete failure. They had been right – Morgause, the woman from the council, everyone. He couldn’t do it, and he was making a mess out of it. He had neglected the care of Em, trusting her to handle herself, forgetting she was still somewhat of a child – he had done the same with Kara. Wouldn’t he ever learn? Would he make the same mistakes with Mordred, with Tristan, with Freya?

Sobs racked through him, his eyes burning from the tears, desperate. He had lost her, Em, he had lost her for good. Even if – no, when – they found her, their relationship was broken. He wasn’t what she needed, he didn’t know how to be what she needed. She wanted her dad, and he would never be enough, just a shadow, a doppelganger to the real man.

He felt himself shake in desperation, and sat down, crying as he hadn’t cried since the evening after Morgana’s death – but it was worse now, so much worse, for there had been nothing he could have done to prevent her demise, while now he couldn’t stop thinking about what he _should_ have done to hold Enmyria safe.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Gwen walked in, her face growing softer at the sight of him.

“We found her” she said, sitting by his side. “She went to Mithian, to see Kara. She went straight there. They’re bringing her back.”

Instead of helping, it only made it worse. The tears wouldn’t stop, or the doubts – for how long? She wouldn’t do the same thing next time, and anything could happen. Gwen pulled him into an embrace, holding him against her chest and caressing his hair, and he allowed himself a moment to experience all the terror he had been feeling.

“I miss her” he chocked, finally. “I miss her, and I can’t do it without her.”

“Shh” Gwen said, kissing the top of his head. “You’re an amazing dad, Merlin. You are doing everything you can, it’s just…” he knew she was biting her lip even though he couldn’t see it. “Teenagers, they can’t help themselves sometimes. Don’t you remember? The rage, the feelings…”

He sobbed again, and she moved slowly, rocking him. There was something always incredibly soothing about Gwen, and he loved her for it at that moment. She held him until he calmed down, and helped him clean his face. As he came down, Mordred hugged him, a sad smile on his face, and Will clapped his back. Lancelot called the kids to help him set up the tent (he _had_ promised them they could sleep there that night), and Gwen and Will stood with him in the kitchen as they waited for dinner to be ready and Enmyria to arrive.

Merlin used the time to fill them up on the morning argument and Em’s wish to find her father, the visit from the council, Morgause’s tantrum and his conversation with his step-daughter. It felt like an impossible long day and there were still hours before it was over.

“The worst thing is… I don’t know how to talk to her – she won’t let me come close, she won’t tell me what’s wrong…” he said, looking down. “I mean… Mordred, Tristan and Freya are amazing with that, because they just… alienate themselves, yeah? They do things that… We just can’t do – not without looking mad, like talking to plastic dolls two inches from your face or something… But Em… She’s fifteen. I sometimes see her grabbed by the here and now, where we stand and the look on her face…”

He stopped, knowing that he had to control his own feelings. Will clapped him on the back, his favorite brand of comforting, and Gwen just bit her lip once again, as she always did when she was nervous.

“Don’t the school text you if she misses class?” she asked, twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt.

“Yeah – to Morgana’s phone” Merlin snorted.

“And, what? She texts back as if she were you?”

The man shrugged.

“I couldn’t find it – the phone, but she must have. She forges sick notes, takes the letters before I see them… Although she claims she doesn’t.”

Will shook his head.

“They’re all terrible liars at this age – compulsively devious.”

“I don’t know – what is she doing if she’s skipping school? And… At fifteen, you can do stuff to yourself. I can…” he shook his head, trying to think. “I failed Kara at that age, and now I’m failing Enmyria. How do I get her to talk?”

“Bugger me if I know” answered his best friend with a stifled laugh. That made Gwen turn to him, her hands on her hips, seriously annoyed.

“How can you _not_ know? You _teach_ them!”

“I _teach_ them, I don’t _talk_ to them” retaliated the man. “I hate them, and they hate me. I yell and mock them and then on sixth form we renegotiate.”

Even Merlin had to laugh at that – it was so completely and totally Will to simply resort to mocking when he couldn’t have his way. Gwen shook her head, disapprovingly, but she was grinning too. Still, his friend got serious again.

“I’m guessing… Well, you can ask Kara – if she went straight to her… She must know – and it is easier, yeah?”

Merlin shook his head, non-concomitantly.

“I might be. I don’t know, I just… I suck at this.”

“Language!” warned Gwen, ever the teacher.

He could hear the kids screaming and running through the house, Lancelot making fearsome noises as he chased them. The three of them watched as they opened up the door and ran out to the front of the house, yelling in joy. Would that he could forget his troubles that easily, but there was very little he could do now but wait.

“When are you and Lance having kids?” he asked, trying to think of something else.

“Don’t go there” warned Gwen, but the expression on her face was soft.

“Them chicks are crazy, mate” said Will, always helpful. “Everything is a problem to them.”

“You shut up” Gwen said, giving Will the evil eye. “This is why you’re still single.”

“No problem with being single” he said, grinning, and Merlin left the two of them bickering for Freya was yelling his name.

He arrived at the front of the house to see Morgause back, and fuming by the looks of it. Cendred was right behind her, calling her name, but she didn’t seem to care. Lance took a hint quickly enough, and asked the kids out loud if they didn’t want to buy some ice-cream for dessert. Freya and Tristan whooped with joy, running to get into his car and go choose the flavors they wanted, but Mordred stood in the doorway, eyeing his aunt.

“What did you do now?” the woman hissed.

“Morgause…” Cendred’s tone was cautious, but she dismissed him with her hand.

“I turn my back _one minute_ and there’s a girl running away. This is how you think you’ll manage by yourself?”

“Is this how you think you’ll help?” Merlin shot back, too tired to even get angry, “by making a scene?”

“What happened?” she questioned, once again, and Merlin knew it was pointless to try and hide it.

“I received a visit from the School Liaison Office to say that Enmyria was missing too many classes. I confronted her and she… Well, didn’t take it very well. She went upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom and I thought, well, she’ll have a good cry and then we’ll talk again, but she came down and straight out on the street and got the first bus that showed up.”

“Have you found her yet?” Cendred asked, frowning.

“She went over to see Kara” Merlin added, “They’re bringing her back.”

Morgause snorted and shook her head.

“I knew it” she spit.

“Morgause” warned Cendred, and this time she did turn to her husband.

“No, you shut up, I’m helping” she said, “you realize Kara was sleeping with boys at Enmyria’s age.”

“As if you'll ever let me forget it” he muttered, but Morgause didn’t care to answer his comment.

“And for what it counts, so was Morgana.”

“Morgause!” said Cendred, louder this time, and his eyes were on Mordred, who was still standing behind his father.

“It’s like mother, like daughter” she went on. “Running away to make everyone pay attention to her – and if you are not careful, she too will get pregnant before you know it!”

“This is not about boys” Mordred interrupted, but Morgause just gave him a disbelieving look.

“You’re just a kid” she told her nephew, as Merlin turned to look at his oldest son’s fierce expression. “I am a woman, I know…”

“She wants to find her dad” Mordred announced, and they all looked at him, shocked.

“What?” sputtered Cendred, his brow furrowed.

“Aren’t you paying any attention?” the boy asked, putting his hands in his pockets. “She’s trying to find out who her dad is – I bet she’s been visiting mom’s old friends.”

“Did she tell you that?” Merlin asked, wondering if he was dealing with some sort of parent trap.

“She’s got mom’s mobile and she’s been going through mom’s Facebook” he said, shrugging. “And after Tristan’s tantrum, I can’t say I don’t understand it.”

Merlin nodded, wishing he had indeed taken more notice of Em’s online time, but there was always so much to do…

“And how does she think she’ll do _that_? No one knows who her father was or where Morgana met him!” Morgause pointed out.

Mordred, of course, didn’t have any good answers for her, just as Merlin and Enmyria also didn’t at that point.

“Right” he said, passing his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but I’ll talk to her.”

“You be careful” Morgause said, “because the next best thing will be older boys – or teachers, that was Morgana’s specialty…”

“Thanks for coming by” was Merlin’s answer, no longer caring if he was being rude. “It was kind of you, but we solved the problem.”

“You’re welcome” said Cendred, pulling his wife closer, although she was clearly reluctant to move. “And… Sorry.”

“I’m not sorry” the woman spat, angry. “He’ll thank me for saying this!”

“Yes, we’re all very thankful” the irony was clear in Cendred’s tone. “Let’s go”, he told her, and then turned back to his brother in law. “I’ll need to speak with you over the next few days about Morgana’s inquiry.”

“Yeah, so maybe you shouldn’t kick _him_ out of your house too soon” Morgause said, still angry.

“Morgause! Enough!” Cendred’s seemingly endless patience was over.

“And don’t _you_ talk to me like that” she complained, holding her ground. “I’m going to stay until she arrives and then…”

“I think she went through enough stress today” Mordred said, giving his aunt a weird smile. “And nothing stresses her quite as much as you do, aunt Morgause.”

The blond woman couldn’t believe her ears by the look on her face.

“Just go home” Mordred continued, his gaze never straying from her face. “It will be better for everyone.”

“You little…” Morgause said, moving forward in Mordred’s direction, and before Merlin could even think of what to do or Cendred managed to get a hold of her again, the woman reeled and staggered back as if she had reached an unseen barrier.

“Mordred!” Merlin said, his voice cracking as a whip, and Cendred caught a hold of his wife.

“You’ve gone too far” he told her, and then looked at the boy. “Once again, I’m sorry.”

The man dragged his wife back into the car, clearly too shaken by whatever Mordred had done to fight back. Merlin pulled his son back into the house, unsure if he should be worried or scared.

“What did you do?” he said, closing the door. “And outside! Where anyone could see! What were you thinking?”

“She was trying to hurt me!” the boy complained, his eyes wide. “Didn’t you feel…”

“What?” snapped the father, more tired than anything else.

“She sent a thing… straight to me” said the boy, trembling as he sat down. “Dark and angry and…” Mordred stopped speaking and stared ahead for a few seconds, before shaking his head as if he tried to clear his mind of something and starting to cry.

And _that_ was exactly what Merlin needed on the top of everything else.


	8. Trial and Success (10 Weeks P.M.D)

Enmyria didn’t want to go home. It pained Kara to see it and to know she had no choice, it felt a bit like a betrayal of her. And yet – yet – she knew that it was what must be done, for everyone’s sake. Her mother had been quite stern about it, and she also knew that most of Em’s issues were more in her own head than on anybody else’s.

She left Kay with her mom and took the car. Em was silent now, just as she had been bursting with feelings and words earlier. It was a complicated relationship, the one between them – they were close in age, but the gap had grown wide when Kara got pregnant. It was just now, as Em emerged from the first hard half of her teenage years that they had managed to rekindle their, well, friendship of sorts. Enmyria was her true younger sister; the one that _had_ been through the same things she had – not fitting in, being a memory of the past, a lost bit in a new family. But now Kara had grown into her own– her own family, her own space, not so much as a sister but as a cool grown up to her half-siblings – while Em had lost what kept her connected to it.

For all his faults, Merlin _was_ her father. He was there, and he had always been. Her mother was a complete star, too, and she couldn’t picture how life would be without both of them just as she couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have Kay. She gripped the wheel a bit tighter, longing for the feeling of her child in her arms.

It had come as little surprise to her that Em felt misplaced and alone in the house – God knew she would if she were there as well – or that the girl felt the desperate need of finding her father and, with that, her own place in the world. The only thing she worried about was that Em would be fantasizing – thinking all fathers were like Merlin was with his younger children, caring and present. Kay’s father had shown her that it wasn’t the case with all of them at all.

Still, she couldn’t turn her back, she couldn’t _not_ help Em in her search – just as she couldn’t _not_ tell her father everything she knew about it. It was her duty as an adult, wasn’t it?

When they walked inside the house, Mordred’s godparents and her godfather were in the kitchen with her dad, setting up the table. Freya ran over to them, calling over to her sisters happily.

“Hey, Em, Kara! Uncle Lancelot made lasagna and we’re having an ice-cream factory for dessert!”

Enmyria barely glanced over at her, starting to climb the steps.

“Em!” the little girl called over again, but her dad interrupted her.

“Leave her be, Freya” he said, eyeing his step-child tiredly.

“Yeah. Don’t think I wanted to come back – I didn’t” the teenager said before giving Kara a hurtful look and continuing to go upstairs.

“She looks mad” said Freya, looking over from Kara to their father. “Is it because of Tristan?”

“It’s because a lot of things” Merlin said, finally acknowledging his first-born and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Best not” she said, shaking her head. “Can we have a word?”

“Of course” he said, following her outside.

Kara stopped by her car, leaning on the vehicle and looking for the right words to make him understand what was going on with Em.

“Did she talk to you?” he asked, as soon as they stopped. Kara took a deep breath; trying to suffocate the bitter feeling it left in her to see him so worried about Em when he had left her alone in the office all day to deal with things she wasn’t used to deal and hadn’t even asked how she was doing.

“Of course she did” she replied, tiredly. “Enmyria knows she can always talk to me and that I’ll listen – as I have been listening for a long time. You are the one she can’t talk to.”

The pain was clear on Merlin’s face as he heard her words, and it gave her an evil sort of satisfaction.

“I want to” he said, his voice subdued. “But I don’t know how – how to do it. How to make her comfortable, how to start a conversation, how… I just don’t know.”

Kara was no longer young enough to believe her own parents to be perfect or superheroes, but it didn’t make it any easier to see them showing doubts and unsure of what to do. A part of her pitied him at that moment, but another part sneered thinking that that much had been quite obvious for years.

“How did you ever get married? You’re a complete failure when it comes to women!” she blurted out, suddenly.

Her remark seemed to ease up the air around them as he chuckled and grinned at his daughter and it was such a contagious smile that Kara found herself smiling as well, some of her anger dissipating over the twinkle in his eyes.

“Morgana was very insistent about what she wanted” he finally voiced, a longing look in his face. “She would have done anything to get her way, and she did. She had a way around my clumsiness, she just… _knew_ what I meant even when it wasn’t clear – it was part of her gift, the empathy. So we didn’t suffer too much from my inability to express myself when it came to feelings and such. Now, as to  your mother…” Merlin raised his hand, passing it over his daughter’s face in a caress. “You look very much like her, but you’re nothing alike. I didn’t know how to say things, and she needed them said – that’s part of the reason it didn’t work out. We grew apart because of it, more than anything else. It would never have worked” he sighed, shaking his head. “Your mother, she’s not like you – she’s fierce, but not as strong. She knows how to work hard, but she doesn’t know how to listen to anything that isn’t… That can’t be put into words – and some things just can’t, they have to be felt in your blood, in your heart. She needed – she _deserved_ – more than what I could give her.”

“So you left her with even less than that” accused Kara, shaking her head.

“It was her choice, in the end” Merlin told her, seriously. “And I respected it. I might have left her, but I never left _you_.”

Kara snorted, shaking her head once again. She wished – she _really_ wished – that it were true. Still, he went on, speaking as if he hadn’t seen it.

“I took care of you, I cooked your meals, took you to school and to every single class you wanted to take. We went to parks and to trips; I played and ran with you all day long. Don’t you remember it? All those days… And even after Morgana came around, even after your brothers were born… It was the woman I couldn’t connect to, that I didn’t know how to deal with. While you were a girl, it was fine.”

The young woman nodded at him, tiredly. She couldn’t deny it, but it hadn’t been enough, he had failed her when she needed him the most, just as he was failing Enmyria now.

“We grow up” Kara reminded him. “I did, and Em is doing it as we speak, and soon Freya will do it as well. You better put yourself together unless you want them all to stray away.”

His hand went through her hair as he pulled her close into an embrace, nodding all along.

“I know. I know. And this is why I’m asking you to help me. Teach me, sweetheart. Tell me where I failed, what I didn’t do, and I’ll try and fix it.”

And, although she had thought herself past caring, she couldn’t say no.

* * *

 

It took a long while for the noises outside to calm themselves. Enmyria lay in her bed, trying to shut out the sounds, but it was impossible. She was alone upstairs, but they were all together in the kitchen, eating and laughing, having fun as if she didn’t exist.

Only Mordred seemed to remember her as he poked and prodded around her head, but she used all her strength to keep it shut to him. Em didn’t want company, and certainly didn’t want pity. Still, her brother was insistent, and she found herself with a considerable headache from trying to keep him out.

“Mordred! Stop it right now!” Will’s voice rang through the air.

“I’m not doing anything” said the boy, but Enmyria could feel that he was no longer trying to get in touch. It made her a bit relieved, even as the man spoke again.

“Yeah, right, and I’m a dancing bear.”

The sheer exhaustion of trying to keep him out must have gotten to her. Em didn’t remember falling asleep, but was startled awake hearing Merlin tell the children to brush their teeth and go to bed. She sat on her bed, wondering about her life and the path ahead of her. Tears came to her eyes, even though she made a strong effort not to cry.

She wasn’t surprised when she heard a knock on her door, a little after her siblings had finally gone to their beds. Her step-father walked inside with a tray in his hand, bringing in a sandwich and some juice.

“You didn’t have dinner” he said, placing it on her desk.

“I’m not hungry” she replied, not looking at him.

She knew what he was doing, the soft words trying to win her over, and as nice as it was, it didn’t change the reality or the fact that she didn’t belong.

“We need to talk” Merlin’s voice was tired. He sat down on the edge of her bed, and Em finally stared.

 “Don’t start playing the father, you’re _not_ my father” she reminded him, the tears back once again.

“I’m not” he agreed, nodding. “But I want to help you – I want to help you find him. I know what it is like – how you’re feeling – I understand the urge. You don’t have to do it in secret, Em, we can do it _together_.”

Enmyria snorted. Oh, how much she wished it was that easy.

“Don’t – don’t try to win me with easy words. It’s not easy. I’m not a child to believe things because I want to.”

Merlin shook his head, sadly.

“I know that, Em” he offered, his voice barely over a whisper. “I know how to deal with children, it’s teenagers I’m a failure at” he said, with a defeated smile. “I failed Kara, and I failed you. I wasn’t there when you needed – I didn’t… I didn’t make you feel comfortable to talk to me. I’m not the enemy, Em. I want to help, I want…” Merlin sighed. “My mom never told me anything about my father either. I spent years searching for him as I could, but I never found him. I never would have known him if I hadn’t accepted Gaius’ help… Let me return the favor, Em. Let me help you.”

There was something in his eyes that gave her a stop. She had been young, but not so much that she didn’t remember the excitement, the travel, new places and the heavily bearded man that had been Merlin’s father, the way he smiled when looking at her and her siblings, his undeniable pride in Merlin. She also remembered how he had never come back with them.

If someone knew what it was like to want to find a parent, it was Merlin. She doubted he would be able to help, but it was a relief to just vent her frustration.

“It’s no use” she said, shrugging. “No one knows a thing about him – he was a one night stand thing. Mom didn’t… She didn’t even know his name.”

Merlin looked at her, sadly.

“Yeah, she told me that too, but I don’t believe it.” That surprised Em, she didn’t expect him to say something like that.

“What do you know?” she demanded, and he sighed.

“I have been over your mom’s old diaries… There is a lot about your pregnancy, but not much that helps to find your father. What I know is that she was already pregnant when she left school – when she ran away, she was already pregnant, so even if she didn’t write about it, someone _must_ …”

Em just shook her head, contradicting it.

“That I already knew” she told him.

“How?” Merlin clearly hadn’t known and he was surprised that Enmyria did.

She looked up, taking a deep breath.

“You remember when we travelled to meet _your_ dad? There was that turbulence, over the Alps, and I threw up…”

“… All over the steward, I remember” he completed, a longing smile on his face.

“I was upset, _really_ upset, and mom tried to cheer me up. I was embarrassed that I had made such a mess, and she told me she had done much worse the first time she went through a turbulence, that she had thrown up all over the other passengers and on and on even after it until there was nothing left, and then she laughed and said that it might have been my fault, since she never felt as sick as on the first months of my pregnancy, and told me a tale about how she barfed all over her last exam and had to do the whole thing again, that _this_ had been how she had first considered that she might be pregnant – it was about the time of the Alps Tragedy, I remember she told me that too.”

The man just looked at her, clearly thinking about what he heard, and finally nodded.

“It’s more than she ever told me” he said, a small smile on his face. “So we know she was still at university. That’s a good starting point.”

“It’s a dead end” disagreed Enmyria, frustrated. “I have been through the friends she had back then – I stalked them and I learned about it, I talked to them and it is no use. She never told anyone about it, no one _knows_ who my father might be. They didn’t even know she was pregnant until, well, most didn’t even know she had been pregnant until I told them so.”

Her step-father looked surprised.

“How did you even _find_ them?” he asked, clearly bewildered, and she couldn’t avoid a small smile.

“I had her mobile, with all her passwords and access to everything. I went through her Facebook, her email, everything I could to find them. I got their data and sent emails, chat messages, phone-calls, everything I could. Some of them I met in person, but I mostly did it online and it was always the same – no one _knows_ anything. She probably just hooked up with him for one night, a stranger, and that was it.”

“I don’t believe it” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Not you, I mean, you were quite clever with this, much more than I was”, he graced her with a smile. “But…  I just can’t believe that it was some random guy that she picked up one night. That’s not like her.”

Enmyria snorted at that.

“I am sure you don’t want to think about it – hell, I didn’t – but from what I gathered from her friends, hopping from bed to bed was something of a specialty of my mother. A few of them mentioned common friends she had slept with in different points in time.”

She was a bit surprised that Merlin blushed at that, she should be the one blushing – _she_ was the one whose mother was something of a slut – and he gagged for a moment, gesturing for her to stop it.

“I can well believe it” he said, finally, managing a small laugh. “ _That_ is not why I found it weird – it’s actually very much like her, but… Have you seen your mother on the streets? Or walking? Surrounded by strangers? I have seen it many times, and she was _gorgeous_ and yet, people didn’t stare her. There was something, an aura about her, of danger. People never got close, and she never allowed anyone to get close unless she wanted to – she never did. Even the stories you heard – those were mates, people she knew something about, that she had some sort of sense of belonging… Not complete strangers. I can see her sleeping around with her friends, I can’t see her doing the same in a club or in a pub.”

Enmyria listened to it, thinking it over. Although she had very little experience on the matter, she could understand that it was harder not to feel utterly stupid around strangers than around people you knew, however fleetingly. It made sense, but it proved nothing.

“Maybe – maybe not. We’ll never know” she sighed.

Merlin covered his face with his hands for a moment, groping his own hair, before sitting up straight once again and starting to talk.

“The night before Morgana died, we spoke about it – your father. The way she spoke… It was not like someone who doesn’t know who the man is. She knew it fully well, and she didn’t want us to meet him.”

“Why?” Em asked, voicing her strongest pain. “Why didn’t she want me to meet him? Why did she think she had the right to deny me _that_?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Your mother was a control freak, if there ever was one. I don’t think she could deal with the very idea of someone else interfering with your education. She said… She said she had carried you alone, gave birth to you alone and raised you alone, and therefore you didn’t need a father. I told her it wasn’t that simple, but it would make her go… Batshit insane, that’s the term for it.” Em couldn’t avoid laughing, and he smiled at her, sadly. “She made me promise never to tell you anything, even though I _knew_ nothing.”

“Would you tell me if you did?” asked the girl, seriously.

“I wouldn’t, if she were here” he replied, calmly, as someone who had thought it over often enough. “But she isn’t, and I never agreed to keep you apart from your father.”

Enmyria nodded, solemnly, somehow she knew he was telling her the truth as he wouldn’t have dared to a few weeks ago. So much had changed.

“It doesn’t make it any less impossible to find him” she commented, after a few moments of silence. “No one knows anything. I have been through _everyone_ I could find, and I am not closer to finding him than I was before I started” Enmyria took a deep breath, trying to control her own frustration. “Maybe we should hire an ex-MI5 to look for him” she said, shrugging in amusement.

“Em!” Merlin said, standing up, filled with energy and eagerness. “That’s it – I know _one_ person you didn’t ask about and that I am _sure_ was the _one_ person Morgana tried to tell about it – the _one_ person that may help us find him, that may _know_ who your father is and even might help us find him!”

Her stepfather was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, much more excited than she had seen him in weeks.

“Who?” she questioned, trying and failing not to feel the hope swelling in her chest, raising her own body to stand on her knees, pleading – to Merlin, to any and every God, for the universe, for a single change.

“Arthur Pendragon. The Prince of Wales.”

* * *

 

Arthur would forever remember it as the day that would change his life for ever.  The day had started early – if it could be called a “day start” when the sun wouldn’t rise for another couple hours. George didn’t seem to mind it, though, his PA was just as efficient as ever, but he could see Leon yawning on their way to the airport.

He couldn’t feel guilty, even though he knew he was to blame for their early rising – he could have travelled the previous night, and indeed, considering that he was being expected by the Prime Minister and the Prince of Belgium for breakfast, it would have been much more natural to spend the night overseas rather than taking an early morning flight. Yet, just a couple days ago, Elena had come down with a fever – his daughter had always been as healthy as the horses she loved so much – and it had scared him into waiting up until they were sure what was the problem with her. It was nothing serious – a simple ear infection – but Elenna hadn’t had anything apart from a slight fever since her teeth first came out. Vivian had told him that he was a fool, that he shouldn’t spoil her by staying with her, and said that it was mostly whining and nothing worth the amount of care he was ready to give her, but he ignored her, as usual.

As he struggled to stay awake, Arthur checked  his personal email on his phone . It hardly ever had anything interesting – some jokes from Leon, sometimes emails from his extended family that he mostly deleted without reading (Catrina, his second cousin twice removed and his father’s only girlfriend ever since he was born would pester him for news about Uther, his uncle Agravaine would try and ingratiate himself whenever he could – he had enough of them on the few family reunions they had, and no wish to have them pestering online as well. He was sure that Vivian had given them his personal email only to piss him off).

There was a new message, though, from an unknown address – Arthur almost deleted it before taking notice of the sender’s name: Merlin Emrys. It took him a few moments to remember why the name sounded familiar, and when he did, he felt his heart clenching a little, as it would whenever he recalled Morgana’s death. Although he had given her husband his personal email address, he had never expected the man to actually contact him; Merlin hadn’t come across as someone who would accept his help unless it was the last possible option – which may have been part of the reason to why he _had_ indeed shared his email.

The title was almost as surprising as the presence of the email itself. It said very little, and yet, it was enough to make Arthur feel fully awake.

 

 

From: memrys@gmail.com

To: apennyanddragons@pendragon.co.uk

Date: 13/02/2012 00:40 GMT

Subject: I think I have your answer

 

Hello, HRH!

 

I should start by apologizing if I completely fail to use the proper form of address, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen any sort of protocol for royal emails, let alone personal ones.

I am sorry to be disturbing you when I’m sure you have tons to do for King and Country and all that, but after a few completely chaotic weeks, I may had stumbled on the answer to your question, meaning, I guess I know why Morgana looked for you that last time you two talked.

I am not sure if you know, but Morgana already had a daughter when we met. The girl, Enmyria, was born on the year after she finished University and travelled around Europe. Morgana never talked about the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy, and most of us have always believed she got pregnant after graduating, but lately we’ve found out that it wasn’t the case. Morgana already knew she was pregnant by the time she left; it seems she found out on the final week of her last term.

She never told anyone anything about it, but I am pretty confident this it was what she wanted to share on that day; from what you’ve said and few additional enquiries, I found out that the dates match. I may as well be wrong, but I think that’s a good possibility.

Now, that’s where I regretfully have to start intruding… I figure Morgana never told you anything, but, is it possible that you know something about it? Someone she was seeing? Any particular hook up? (OMG, I just said hook up to the Prince of Wales, where are my manners?). Anything at all would be a lot of help. I wouldn’t ask, but Enmyria is hell bent on finding her father – she already ran away from home once because of it –, and no one else knows anything; we’ve contacted all her other friends from that time and no news. I know it’s a long shot, but any hint you can give us would be welcome!

Thank you for your time!

Merlin

 

Arthur stared at the screen for a long while. It was the most confusing and unusual email, and clearly Merlin – what a perfect name for someone that married Morgana – had been a bit too agitated when writing to make much sense of things. He frowned, trying to think back on it, but it was hard. Too many years had passed by, and from what he could recall, Morgana had named her last year her “lesbian experience” year and decided she’d bed as many girls as possible. He laughed to himself just remembering that. Or had that been the year before her last? Over a decade later, it was hard to say.

Still, it was a very good possibility – a very real one – that Morgana’s sudden appearance and distress on that day had something to do with an unexpected pregnancy. She had always been careful, but there was no 100% safe way to avoid children except _not having sex_ , and _that_ wasn’t something Morgana had been keen on.

And it made sense that _this_ could be her problem, the secret she wanted to share with him. Morgana had known _his_ secrets, sometimes even before _he_ could know them himself. He had often told her that he’d stand by her with whatever she needed, but when she _had_ come for him; he had turned her away, too drowned in his own selfish misery.

He could still remember her angry words before she left, and they all pained him even more now than they did back then – when he had thought he still had time to make up, to prove her wrong. _“If you’re a prince now, act like one. You’re a figure, a leader; you have the power to change things, not only for you, but for others. Don’t let them make you do what they want you to, use it in your favor, in favor of those_ like _you.”_ He could remember his angry denial and her exasperated sight. _“You even lie to yourself!”,_ she had said, and he tried to prove her wrong by crushing her between his arms and smashing his mouth against hers. Morgana hadn’t been fooled, she had actually laughed bitterly through his attempted kiss, making his blood boil with anger.

Arthur would never be able to fool her – she knew him too well.

She had yelled at him after that, angry and betrayed all over again, shaking with rage and compliments turned into insults – “ _I never thought you’d step that low – always thought you were honorable”_ ,  “ _I thought you were a man, but you’re just a little boy doing as his father says_ ”, “ _I thought you were better than_ that” and “ _If you want to live a lie for your whole life is your problem, but I’m_ done _with your shit_.” He had said his share as well, but it were her words that he remembered, how they had scorched his very soul.

Maybe a part of him had accept her anger as the truth and acted just as to prove it. He often thought it was exactly the case when Vivian was being particularly bothersome. Vivian, at least, had been something that he had done to prove her wrong.

But now – now, he could apologize in a way. He had turned his back on Morgana, but he wouldn’t do so to her child. It was somehow his fault that Merlin and Enmyria were now searching for someone they didn’t know, that Arthur should have known but he _couldn’t_ tell them, because his own foolishness had cost him the only true friend he had ever had apart from Leon. He could never apologize like he had wanted to for the last fifteen odd years, he couldn’t be the man that Morgana had expected him to be, but he _could_ help her daughter and husband to the best of his abilities, and _hope_ that, if there was an afterlife, it would be enough for her to forgive him for everything.  With a deep breath, he made up his mind, turning to Leon.

“I have a favor to ask you” he said, seriously.

 “Whatever you need” the man said, straightening up.

“As a friend” Arthur warned him, crossing his arms. “Not as anything else.”

George made his best “I am not listening” face, and Leon opened up his most earnest smile.

“Anything, Arthur.”

And Arthur made his request.

 


	9. All Secrets Are Obvious (10 weeks P.M.D)

 Definitively, Leon would be writing a memorandum to the authority responsible for security in schools in that area. Either people around were really scared of black cars or they were extremely naïve. No one had so much as blinked an eye when he walked in and said that he needed to talk to the Principal or to whoever was in charge at the moment. The Principal – a simple mid-aged woman named Mary Howden – hadn’t asked for credentials, but merely taken his word when he claimed to be working for the government and needed a word with one of his students at that exact moment.

So, he was in an official car – but it wasn’t like every public servant was necessarily a good person; or that there had never been an official car robbery. He might be a kidnaper, a lunatic, whatever, and the woman had just decided that he wasn’t any sort of threat to the security of his students and allowed him a private meeting to the girl he asked about.

It was inadmissible.

Since security had been his main interest and employment area from the moment he was born, it was also the one thing he could evaluate without question on the environment – he knew little enough of everything else on the place. He had never been on a regular, government founded school before apart from the few occasions in which the Prince of Wales – current or former – had been expected, and, of course, such occasions did not reflect the everyday state of affairs.

It took but a few minutes for the girl the walk in and it felt like a punch in the face. He had known nothing about the girl’s existence until this morning, but he had expected her to be the smallest of the two young women he had seen on the funeral – a very common mistake – and also because, naturally, he had expected Morgana’s daughter to be the dark haired one, but clearly he was wrong on both accounts.

It felt a bit like playing “spot the seven errors”, except there were far too many. Enmyria was taller than he remembered Morgana to be, though not by much. The girl had the same willowy frame that Morgana had sported, but she didn’t have her mother’s ivory skin; the hair made the same wildly large curls that Morgana’s hair had; but he couldn’t picture the woman using it toppled carelessly on the back of her head in something that was neither a ponytail nor a bum but looked a bit like both, it also was undoubtedly golden – there even may be some dye work on it, but he could see from the hair roots that it was still quite fair. Enmyria had the same green eyes, marked eyebrows and rebellious nose as Morgana, but her mouth was full and pouty, in a way that reminded him of Duchess Ygraine portraits.

She stared at him, and while he could see some curiosity in her eyes, he knew she wouldn’t show any sign of weakness. Leon could have laughed out loud at the charade he was about to play, for it seemed to him that the answer for all their enquiries was painted in each and every trace of her face. He gave her a kind smile, knowing how she must be feeling on being summoned.

“Please, sit down” he said, keeping his voice in check.

Enmyria sat in the chair in front of his own, her eyes never leaving him and her eyebrow rising slightly in an unsaid question.

“My name is Leon” he said, and still she didn’t speak. “I was sent to see you by the Prince of Wales.”

Whatever the girl had been expected, clearly it hadn’t been it, as her mouth dropped in a small “o”. It made him feel more at ease, the girl’s fierce pose reminded him far too much of the mother on her bad days, and even through the decade and a half, the impression of her anger hadn’t left him.

“I am not sure if I’m in trouble or not, now” she said, after a few seconds.

Leon laughed, and she seemed to be more at ease, smiling prettily back at him. It shone with something soft that her mother had lacked.

“You’re not in trouble” he said, smiling, and she seemed relieved. “The Prince received your step-father’s email, and he’s ready to help in any way he can – he’s very sorry that he can’t come himself, but he had official business to attend to.”

“That would have been a bit scary” said the girl, giggling. “Being summoned by the Prince.”

“Yes, I guess it would” Leon agreed, smiling.

“Does he know anything?” the girl inquired, eagerly. “Does he remember anyone? Did she tell him? Merlin thought she hadn’t, but she might have. What did he say?”

Leon shook his head, denying. The Prince hadn’t  _told_  him anything – not then, and not now – and it may even be that he didn’t think about it. It would be better to keep his suspicions to himself.

“He doesn’t have any leads” he said, simply, following what they had agreed on. “But he’s eager to help.”

“How can he…” she started, annoyed, but he silenced her with a raised hand.

“The Prince sent me to retrieve some DNA samples from you – his idea is to run it to the database to see if we can find him.”

“Is that even possible?” she asked, frowning. “Is it  _likely_?”

The man gave a soft smile, she looked very much like her mother, even through all the differences.

“We have…” He moved his head from one side to the other. “I can’t really say much about this, I’m sworn to secret.”

“Please?” she asked, gracing him with another smile, and for a second he wondered if she knew how much she looked like Morgana, or if she was aware that it might look like flirting – which would be completely inappropriate in a number of different levels. “Pretty, pretty please?” she continued, still smiling. “It’s about me, isn’t it? So, you should be able to tell me, yes?”

He shook his head, trying to move his thoughts away from her behavior – he hadn’t really dealt with teenagers since he was one – and cleared his throat.

“If your father has ever committed a felony, or if he was ever admitted to a hospital within the realm, we’d be able to identify him.”

She crunched up her nose in distaste.

“That doesn’t sound very good.”

“We have markings on everyone that has ever made a blood exam” he said, trying to gain her confidence. “Well, the MI-5 does, but they’re willing to help the Prince.” Leon knew he wasn’t being particularly truthful, but she didn’t need to know that. He doubted they’d need to look very far. “So, can I pick a sample? A strand of hair – with root, please – and a cotton swab of saliva would be enough.”

She looked at him, wearily.

“Are you testing me for drugs?”

The father in him answered to it quickly enough.

“Do you have any reason to worry if we are?”

“No” she said, defiantly, her chin set high.

He reached for the small plastic bag in his pocket and opened it carefully as she carefully removed a strand from her head.

“Please, put it here” he said, handling her the swab in order for her to pick some saliva.

He closed it carefully, taking his time to write the data as he had been instructed to and pocketing it again, giving Enmyria’s some privacy to attend to the second sample while still making sure she was doing it properly. As he closed and labeled the second bag, the girl watched him carefully.

“How long until you give me an answer?” she asked, almost bouncing from anxiety. 

 

“It may be a few days” he said, cautiously, standing up to leave. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything – even if it’s so say we didn’t find anything.”

“Ok” she said, her eyes wide, as she stood as well. “Thank you, I guess?”

“It’s a pleasure to be of service” Leon answered, relieved that it was over. “Off you go now, I’ve kept you away from your lessons for long enough.

And, with a last blinding smile, Enmyria ran off, leaving him alone to wonder just what he got involved in.

* * *

 

It was around midday and Merlin was finishing a conversation with a client when the intercom buzzed. He wasn’t expecting anyone for another couple of hours, so he felt more than a bit intrigued. There was no need to send a look to Kara for she was gladly answering it and running off to open the door – anything for a break, as usual.

He was even more surprised when she didn’t make it back to the office. Instead, Cendred walked in, by himself. The sudden appearance of his brother in law was enough to make him end the conversation as soon as he could, while the man set himself comfortably across from him. Merlin had a feeling he knew what the visit was about, and he wasn’t really looking forward to it. There was a funny look on Cendred’s face, as if he was a bit pained to be there, or as if the ample surroundings the studio were uncomfortable to him on his spotless suit that spoke of small cubicles and hard hours, even if as the ‘Sons’ in Essetir & Sons he probably had a decent-sized room or his own.

“I’m sorry to intrude” the man said, and while he did sound strange, it wasn’t like Cendred – or Morgause, for that matter – to be sorry about intruding anywhere.

“Not at all” answered Merlin, easily. Generally, that was when he would have offered a seat, but Cendred had already made himself at home, as if he owned the place. Which, in fairness, he kind of did – Merlin would never have managed to buy such a good space without the help of the hot-shot lawyer. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

 “Scotch, single malt, no ice” the man said, leaning in more comfortably in the chair.

Merlin begrudgingly prepared the drink and sat back in his chair before speaking again.

“I assume this is about Em” he said, taking a deep breath. “And Mordred.”

Cendred shook his head, putting his glass down.

“No, no, not at all” he picked up a paper from his bag, handling it to Merlin. When the man didn’t open, he went on. “The police has finally come around to offer compensation for Morgana’s death – they do not deny the responsibility, of course” the man said, his face making clear that they’d be in for a very unpleasant fight if they had. “I’ve come to talk to you about the figures – the numbers – that I have in mind.”

That surprised Merlin more than anything else. He shook his head, confused, and ran his hand through his hair, shaken.

“Honestly – I can’t… I can’t… Can’t you deal with this?” he asked, pleading.

“Not really” the man said, with a shrug. “It’s a life-changing amount of money.”

Merlin had very little idea of what he could – should – say to something like this. It was a ridiculous idea; that any money in the world would fix his broken family.

“Well, it was life-changing” was all he could muster.

Cendred nodded in agreement, but didn’t speak again.

“I…. I can’t put a price on it, Cendred!” blurted Merlin, exasperated. “I don’t even… I don’t even believe in compensations!”

That led Cendred to give him a sad sort of smile.

“You’re too nice by half, Morgause is always saying that.”

And _that_ was something Merlin _really_ had a hard time believing. Morgause wasn’t known for saying nice things about people.

“Just… What do you think this money will fix?” Merlin replied, the anxiety in his body making him stand up and walk around. “My _wife_ died, Cendred. Can you even imagine what it would it would be like if Morgause died?”

There was a rare show of raw emotion on the man’s face as he replied.

“It would destroy my life”

It was gone as soon as it came, and the man stood up, looking imposing.

“But you – you, Merlin – you have _so much more_ in your life. You can’t drown in misery as I would. Morgana is gone, but she’s left so much with you…”

“So much responsibility” he sighed, despairing once again.

“And the money could change their life – not fix it, of course” Cendred added, almost as an afterthought. “Nothing will fix it, but the money will give you _possibilities_. You’ll be able to provide for them much better if you don’t have to depend on the studio…”

“The studio is doing perfectly well” interrupted Merlin, his pride wounded. His brother in law just raised an eyebrow, before ignoring him and continuing.

“And you’ll be able to have someone to help around the house full time…”

“I think it’s important for the children to learn to do chores themselves” The man said, seriously. “It helps them become independent.”

“It will pay for their education and it can be saved in a safe account for them to use later” Cendred offered, finally. “Surely, not even _you_ can argue against it?”

Merlin felt his face reddening, he knew he was being childish and that it didn’t matter what he said, the money would be a huge help.

“I… I just _can’t_ Cendred. Please, deal with it” he pleaded, once again. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and that we never…”

The man waved his words away, nodding.

“You’re family. There’s nothing like _too much_ to ask. I just wanted you to… Take an interest in the _future_ for a change.”

There were many things Merlin never understood or liked about Cendred – how he could put up with Morgause or love her so deeply, for once – but right now, he couldn’t feel anything but gratitude for the man. Merlin sank to his chair, exhausted by the conversation. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, tasting the bitter relief.

“Now, about Enmyria…” Cendred’s voice was clearly concerned, even a bit stiff, and Merlin’s eyes flew open immediately. “I’d recommend a harsh letter to the school, asking _why_  they decided to take this path, considering the circumstances.”

“Right…” said Merlin, waiting for the punch line.

“Also, I think you should seriously consider adopting her. As it stands, your situation is – unfairly – unsustainable. They’re powerful people, and there’s nothing guaranteeing that they’re not going to demand you to relinquish her to Morgause.”

“We both know that Morgause doesn’t like children and that she positively hates teenagers” replied Merlin, wearily. “She wouldn’t…”

“No” agreed Cendred. “But failing _that_ , Gaius and Alice would have the guardianship over Enmyria – or even a stranger. You should make your legal position stronger and file an ‘intent to adopt’ with the council.”

“We’re looking for her father” Merlin argued, tiredly. “Isn’t it… a bit counterproductive to look for a parent _and_ try and adopt her?”

Cendred shook his head.

“A father you may _never_ find” he pointed out, drily. “Also, there are the other children to consider – if the council decides that you’re not fit to care for Enmyria, it may also question your ability to care for Mordred, Tristan and Freya. You may lose them all.”

Merlin could only blink at this.

“Could they do that?”

Cendred merely shrugged.

“They’re powerful, and some of them are power-mad. We don’t deal much with family cases in the company, it’s not our area of expertise; but we’re always hearing nasty things about them.”

Merlin nodded, and cleared his throat, before speaking. It was best to get it out of the way once and for all.

“About yesterday… I’m sorry that Modred… Acted so harshly.”

That made Cendred laugh out loud, his ponytail jiggling by his head.

“The boy has steel balls, I’ll give him that” he said, finally, a smile on his face. “The look on Morgause’s face when she finally recovered and understood what had happened – it was _priceless_.” Merlin was absolutely shocked at his reaction. “Anyway, she deserved it – she was actually _asking_ for it. I have no idea what was on her mind, moving to attack an eleven year old. I swear, sometimes that woman looks half-mad.”

There was nothing he could do but bob his head up and down in agreement.

“Don’t worry” he offered, patting him on the back with a firm, manly grip. “She’ll get over it by herself – or Gaius will _eyebrow_ it out of her.” Their father in law _had_ the most impressive eyebrow moves and stares that managed to turn even willful Morgause into a precious kitten. “I’ll talk to you as soon as I have something more substantial on the compensation.”

And even as Merlin walked him out, he wondered what on Earth that visit had been.

* * *

 

Of all the things Enmyria expected to hear when she told her grandfather about Leon’s visit to the school, none certainly had come close to the reality. The old man’s face turned almost purple – she actually worried he was about to have a heart attack – and his long white hair shook disheveled as he yelled at her.

“How can you be so stupid?!” he asked, clearly almost desperate. “Have your father's caution taught you nothing?”

Enmyria frowned, hurt and surprised. She had never heard Gaius yelling before – even when he was upset, he’d just give people _the eyebrow_ and make them see how foolish they had been. She answered the only thing that she could come up with.

“Merlin _isn’t_ my father, and _this_ is kind of the whole point here.”

Her grandfather threw his hands up, as if he had given up on explaining things to her and was now asking for the gods illumination to strike her. It didn’t improve her mood by much, and she crossed her arms, saying nothing.

“Do you have _any_ idea what this entails? If they’re analyzing your DNA, they’ll surely find out that you that you’re a witch!” the old man snapped. “And not only _you_ will be exposed, but you’ll cast doubts about your siblings' powers as well – powers both us, your mother and Merlin did everything they could to hide.”

Well, she _hadn’t_ seen it by that angle.

 “But… Leon said they have registers on everyone that has ever had a blood test – everyone would include a few of us, and surely after the way mom...” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not even now. “They probably already know…”

“Please, don’t be any more foolish than you have to” cut the old man, clearly out of patience. “There is enough of our kind working around, and I keep close tabs on most of them; there are ways – substances – that we use that effectively prevents them from finding any markers for magic. Now, _you_ just went there and gave them _proof_.”

Guilt swept through her, as well as a burning frustration. Couldn’t he feel at least a bit hopeful for her?

“Having magic isn’t against the law” she said, stubbornly.

Gaius gave a long sigh sitting down on the kitchen chair.

“It is _barely_ acceptable” was the tired answer. “Oh, child, I _do_ understand what made you do it, but you _have_ to be more responsible. You’re old enough to consider the consequences of your actions. How many registered sorcerers do you know?”

Enmyria did a quick mind check.

“You, grandmother and aunt Morgause.”

The old man nodded, sadly.

“We were _known_ sorcerers when the register came into being. We couldn’t deny it or refuse to put our names down – not while I was working for the Royal Family itself. Alice was already retired by then, and so was I, but your aunt…” Gaius shook his head, taking his time. “She never got hired again after that. It was lucky that she was already with Cendred, or she might have been doomed for a life living on benefits or exile – and before the new laws were established, she had had a good position as a magic researcher in a university. It soured her” he confided, and Enmyria tried to imagine her aunt being _less_ critical and bitter, it didn’t seem possible. “And I can’t blame her either, especially when we managed to cover up for Morgana – it was easier, both because she was younger and because she, unlike Morgause, hadn’t been identified as a child. Morgause’s papers from the adopting home all said we had specifically requested for an untrained magical child – which was an unusual request, but Alice and I always wanted a large, wild place in which we could allow magical children to grow into their powers… But you already know that.”

Enmyria nodded, she had heard it all before, as she had heard of how her mother had been left on their doorstep by someone who clearly knew what they meant to do. She had also heard more than enough about the other children that they had adopted even before aunt Morgause, and how Tauren and Julius had died while bravely fighting for their country on the Elite Sorcerer Squad some years before she was born. It was no surprise that her mother had wanted to have so many children; she was used to a large family.

“It was different then – in the eighties, magic was common place, not feared or hidden; at least not in most places. After the Prince Consort was killed by a communist sorcerer during the royal visit to the newly reunited Berlin… I’m sure Her Majesty just stopped short of pressing the parliament to outlaw magic altogether because it was well known that her own daughter-in-law came from an old magical family. It would have been absurd. And Uther – His Majesty, that is – he’s much less tolerant than his mother was. It may not be a crime to be born magical in his country, but you know well enough that pretty much any display of magical talent is severely punished. They may not imprison you, but they trap you, child… There are other ways to make magic a crime, there’s no need for a law.”

At least that she didn’t have to be told – it was common knowledge. Sorcerers were declined positions in most jobs – and a growing number of schools and universities wouldn’t accept their entrance. They also weren’t considered eligible for government benefits. Just the very rich – that didn’t depend on the other’s sympathy and kindness to make their money – or those who had no way to deny it, ever professed to being magical. Even those with money and power suffered for their audacity, paying heavier taxes; while the ones that didn’t have such luxury often ended unemployed and nearly  begging on the streets.

The regulations had come into place a bit over twenty years earlier, soon after the death of the previous Prince Consort. Although her grandfather said that it had been thanks to the previous Princess of Wales that magic hadn’t been outlawed, there were those who said that her shocking death soon after her thunderous divorce had been designed by the Powers That Be, to eliminate what they perceived as a magical influence over the Royal House. Some would even say that the mysterious accident that claimed the lives of her ex-husband and children on the following year had been part of a plot to prevent the blood of sorcerers from rising to the throne in the future. People would have blamed the late Queen, if it hadn’t been so clear that the loss of her oldest child and grandchildren had shaken her health and speeded her death; although most would whisper that it had been Prince Uther’s notion.

All of that had been too long ago, though, before she was even born. Enmyria didn’t have even the faintest memory from _before_ King Uther’s ascension, when she was just a kid. Most of those things she had picked up in History classes and weird conspiracy theories online that popped here and there on the social networks, along with her grandfather’s usual long speeches on the subject. Often he would just go on and on speaking of things, and they had long learned to just let him speak.

“There’s nothing I can do” she said, finally. “It’s done. I’ll probably be asked to register when I turn sixteen, and I’ll have no choice but to do it. We can only hope that, if they _do_ find my father, he’s be a bit magical himself; this at least would keep them from the kids.”

Gaius patted her hand lightly.

“Let’s hope so” he agreed, a tired smile finally showing up on his face. “I hope they find him, child.”

And on that, at least, they could both agree.

* * *

 

Arthur had been back for only a couple of hours – enough only to reach the palace and get himself under his most welcome shower when one of the staff announced that Annis was on her way to see him. He was surprised to hear it, he _had_ asked George to make sure that he’d have a free afternoon after five days on duty abroad; and he knew the man well enough to be sure that he _had_ indeed complied with his request.

Of course, a number of things could bring on Annis' sudden appearance – some emergency or other, questions about future commitments and so on. Yet, he couldn’t help but growl, he _had_ planned on stopping by Elena’s riding lesson in an hour or so, before sneaking on Sophia’s music class (God alone knew what she was learning right now; she had switched from violin to harp, from harp to classic piano, from piano to Cello... the list went on). Arthur never complained of his duties, he _knew_ just how privileged he was, but he didn’t want to completely miss on his daughter’s education.

He managed to make himself presentable before Annis arrived, though not by much. The woman had a pinched look on her face; but that could mean just about anything – ranging from Lady Catrina Tregor deciding to publish a book on her on and off liaison with his father to Elena refusing to eat her greens.

“Your Highness” she said as she walked in, with a polite nod.

“Annis. Is the world ending?” he asked, half-teasing.

“I’m afraid not, sire” there was little humor in her answer, and it didn’t surprise him. Although she could be good humored, she hardly ever allowed herself to relax at work.

“Is it a matter of utmost urgency?” Arthur went on, his voice pleading. “I had plans to see my children today.”

“Indeed” she replied, clicking her tongue nervously. “Of course, we can reconvene at your earliest convenience, sire.”

Her words were absolutely correct, and perfectly polite, but her voice was clearly disapproving and there was a tension to her shoulders that Arthur hadn’t seen in a long while. He sighed, defeated.

“Nevermind” he fought against the instinct to drop his shoulders as a school boy after a scolding and gestured her to a seat across his desk. “What brings you here?”

Annis quickly went through a few papers, but Arthur knew her well enough to notice that she wasn’t looking for the data she meant to share with him, but rather to have the documents closer at hand in case he argued – as if he would ever do such thing. Clearly Annis had worked for his father long enough.

“Am I right to assume that _Sir_ Leon’s request for paternity tracing for a child was a direct order from you?” Arthur nodded, frowning. He had almost forgotten about it in the rush of the last few days. “And that this _girl_ ” Annis' voice was clearly edgy when she spoke the word “is the natural daughter of your late university colleague, Morgana LeFay?”

“Yes?” He looked at her across the desk, playing with a pen for lack of something better to do. “Did you find her father?”

“Did you know the child was magical?” Annis questioned, without bothering to answer his question. Arthur felt like rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t even know she existed until a few months ago” he replied, his patience growing thin. “So, the girl has some magic. Is this a problem?”

“She isn’t registered as such…” Annis said, raising her eyebrow disapprovingly.

“She can’t be sixteen yet” he argued, making the math quickly in his head. “So she isn’t required by law to register.” Arthur tapped the pen thrice, and as the woman didn’t seem to be saying anything, but also didn’t seem as if she was about to leave continued, “So, have you found her father or not?”

“We have” Annis' words were careful, clearly she was in no hurry to give him the information, and he felt himself snap.

“So? Are you going to give me his information? Have you picked up any details on him yet?”

His press advisor took a deep breath, picking up one of the papers and sliding it towards him over the mahogany desk.

“There was no need, sire” she said, finally, her voice strained as a bow’s string. “The girl is yours.”

Arthur never felt or heard the pen as it broke in his hand.


	10. The Truth Is a Terrible Thing (12 Weeks P.M.D)

Leon had never seen Arthur fidget like that before. There was a clear nervous tension in all of his muscles, that he fought to hide beneath his usual princely mask as the door opened. They were greeted by a young lady holding up a pink coat.

“Here! We had spotted it and kept it for you” she said with a grin that immediately dissipated as she saw Arthur, Leon and Percival standing there. Whatever she had expecting was undoubtedly closer to a mother with a small toddler dressed in pinks than the Prince of Wales with his security team.

Arthur cleared his throat, fighting to show her a confident smile.

“Hello. You must be Kara Emrys.”

“I… Yea… Yes” she stuttered, quite bewildered. “We were about to… I thought…” she glanced inside for a second and then back at them. “I thought it was someone else.”

“Clearly” agreed the Prince, a bit less smooth than his usual self, although Leon doubted that the girl would notice. “Is your father in?”

“Yes?” she said, but it felt like a question.

“I would very much like to speak to him. May I come in?”

Kara let out a stiff laugh, shaking her head as if to clear her vision.

“Yes! Of course you can, your highness!” She made something between a bow and a curtsey, noticeably at a loss of how she should act.

Kara was very different from what Leon remembered – not a small, thin girl wearing her mother’s black dress, but a young woman in clothes that clung to her every curve. Her dark hair was loose, instead of the braided arrangement she had in their previous meeting, and there was a twinkle in her eyes as she glanced at Percival’s strong biceps that would have been most scandalous on a funeral.

She ushered them in with an easy grace.

“Dad…” she called out loud. “It’s for you.”

There was both a note of hysteria and some amusement in her voice as they watched her father – with his overgrown and messy hair that contrasted strongly with his pale skin and wearing a shirt that had seen better ironing – look up from his computer.

Leon saw the very moment that he noticed who was over at his studio. The first time they met, Merlin hadn’t paid them much attention, lost in the depths of his misery – the signs of the pain the loss caused him were still there, in dark smudges under the eyes and a distinctly gaunt look of his face, as if he hadn’t been eating much – but now he scrambled to get up with as much clumsiness as a person could possibly imagine. His awkwardness became even more pronounced as he went for a bow, it also made him look younger – as if he were in his late twenties rather than his late thirties.

“Your highness!” he said, his voice high-pitched, seeming to be even closer to panic than his daughter had been. “It’s so good of you to come by. I’m sorry… Is there anything…? Would you like a picture?”

Arthur let out a low chuckle at that, and his posture became a little more relaxed. Leon would never allow himself to let out a smile while on duty, but he felt lighter for it.

“I hope I’m not intruding” Arthur said, while Percival walked around, trying to make sure the location was secure.

“No…” Merlin squeaked, following Percival with his eyes. “Not at all.”

“I would like to speak to you” the prince requested then. “Alone. Is there anyone else here? Anyone you’re expecting?”

The man looked between all of them and to his child before replying.

“Not really…”

“I thought you were waiting for someone” he went on, tensing up again. “To pick up the…” Arthur gestured to the pink coat that Kara was still clutching in her hands. Leon hoped she managed to handle herself soon enough before she frayed the damned thing.

“Oh, Kara can wait outside” Merlin said, gesturing his daughter away. “No need to worry about her.”

“Percival shall keep her company” Arthur said, nodding at the man.

It was rather obvious that Kara had no wish to stay and wait outside while some potentially life-changing conversation happened at her workplace; but it was also very clear that sending Percival to wait with her was a good way to placate her. The guard walked out and she followed, but not before throwing her father an evil look.

“Would you invite us to sit?” the prince asked as the door closed, and Leon could see that he was fighting not to shift his weight from one foot to the other, as he often did when he was nervous.

“Yeah…” Merlin stammered, before starting to babble. “Would you like something to drink?” the man went on, looking wildly around and walking to the bar. “Or to sit? I mean, of course you can sit on the sofa or on the chairs. You don’t need my permission to sit. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. I should be the one asking if I could sit, I mean…” He took a nervous glance at the prince, whose eyebrow was arched at him, and the glass he was holding slipped from his hand, hitting the floor and shattering into a thousand tiny shards. That made Merlin throw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean that up later. This is all rather sudden. So, drinks?” he went on, not moving to clear the mess, but picking up another glass instead and pouring a healthy dose of Scotch.

“I don’t drink Scotch…” Arthur replied, uncomfortable.

“What?” Merlin asked, before shaking his head.

“Water would be perfect” Arthur added, and Merlin nodded, walking around to set it. He brought both glasses to where they sat and placed them on the coffee table in front of Arthur’s seat in a black leather sofa. “As I said, I don’t drink scotch.”

“This one is for me” informed Merlin, sitting across him in a red monstrosity that seemed to have been a relic straight from the seventies. Leon remained at his post, halfway between the two men, his arms behind his body and his feet spread apart. The photographer downed the whole glass at once under Arthur’s disapproving gaze before whispering to the Prince. “Won’t he sit?”

“Leon never sits” Arthur informed the man with a look that Leon had always linked to the shrug he wouldn’t allow himself to let out. “So…”

“So…” Merlin went on, looking at him with dread in his eyes. It was clear that he knew something, and it made Leon immediately suspicious.

“As you must have imagined, I’m here because of your step daughter” the prince announced, pompously.

“Yes, it was so kind of you to take an interest” Merlin replied, and it seemed that once the man started talking he wouldn’t stop. “We are very grateful. I told Em that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up, that it was still a small chance, but it was such a… I mean, we never expected you to go to that much trouble; we didn’t even hope for a reply, but we had nothing to lose so, I asked myself, why not? And then you offered to look for him through your channels, that was really… Wonderful, I guess.”

There was a few seconds of silence after that, and Merlin’s cheeks burned as he noted he had prattled on once again.

“It was the least I could do” Arthur said, minimizing his own big heart, as usual. “And I’m glad I did, even if there were some… _unexpected_ results to this search.”

Merlin blinked at that, and paled visibly. His hand was trembling slightly on the edge of the arm-chair, and he was unconsciously shaking his leg.

“Is there any trouble?” he asked, cautiously. “I mean…”

The prince seemed to know immediately the reason for Merlin’s weird behavior and shook his head, putting on his most reassuring face.

“No, it is not about _that_ , though this too was unexpected. She’s not sixteen yet, so there’s no issue with her lack of… documentation.”

It was obvious that Arthur was trying to be discreet for Merlin’s sake, but Leon had known the man his whole life – and also studied law. He could understand well enough without the words being said – the very term “registration” often made people flinch and the last thing they needed now was an even more nervous Merlin. It didn’t seem to have as much effect as the prince had hoped, so he went on.

“And maybe, even after her birthday, she won’t need to… Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it”

There was very little Merlin could do but nod, accepting it.

“So, is it her father?” he asked, anxious. “Did you find him? Is he trouble? I mean… Is it too complicated? Who is he? Are you even sure…?”

“I am” Arthur said, a controlled confession, cutting through the man’s endless questions.

“Good” Merlin answered, but he didn’t look pleased. “I mean… It would be terrible if we raised up her hopes and then it turned out to be a false positive.”

“No” the prince said, shaking his head a bit. “We ran the test over and over. There’s absolutely no doubt.”

“Good” repeated Merlin, and as Arthur said nothing, he ventured to ask. “So, who is he?”

“I am” the prince repeated, once again, and this time Merlin understood his meaning.

And said nothing.

They sat there for some good five seconds of complete silence, while Merlin gaped, Arthur squirmed in his seat and Leon tried to not feel amused by the whole scene, he knew it was a painful ordeal.

“You’re what?” Merlin finally managed, disbelieving.

“Her father. I am Enmyria’s father. All the tests are positive.”

Still Merlin shook his head, trying to capture the whole of the situation. He stood up and started pacing around, as if it made it easier to cope.

“You’re her father.”

“Yes.”

“Her missing father.”

“Yes.”

“The man we’ve all been looking for.”

“Yes.”

“The one Morgana didn’t want me to find.”

“I guess” Arthur let out through grated teeth, his patience running thin.

“So, you’re Enmyria’s father.”

“It is what I said, Merlin!” he barked, exasperated. Another pause, another silence. Merlin looked at both of them with his mouth open in shock.

“You slept with my wife” he told Arthur, then, his eyes wide.

“She wasn’t your wife then” the man said, defensive.

“My wife slept with the Prince of Wales” he went on.

“She wasn’t your wife and I was _not_ Prince of Wales…” Arthur tried to correct him, but Merlin dismissed him with a hand gesture. The prince was gobsmacked, no one had ever dismissed him like that before. Leon lowered his head to hide the grin that escaped him.

“ _I_ slept with the same person as the Freaking Prince of Freaking Wales.”

“That’s a fairly obvious assumption” Arthur conceded, while Merlin just walked on and shook his head, deep in denial. “I take it that you didn’t know it then – that you _really_ asked for my help without any hint that the child was actually mine.”

“Of course I had no idea” Merlin snapped, outraged. “What do you think I am?”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Leon managed to catch his eye before he said anything. He gave his friend a small shake of his head, and he managed to control himself before saying something that would damage the situation even beyond what was necessary. Merlin soon started to laugh uncontrollably and fell back in his chair, his whole body shaking with laugher that sounded suspiciously like sobs.

“Please, don’t make us move to Kuwait” he finally said, looking straight at the prince. “Moving is hell, and even more so with children. I _promise_ I’ll keep quiet – you don’t have to give me money –  I’ll tell her you didn’t find anything, and it will be as if no one ever knew. _And_ I’ll make her register when she comes of age – just don’t make us move to Kuwait.”

Arthur raised his eyebrow, between shocked and confused.

“Why would I send you to Kuwait?”

“Isn’t that what’s done?” Merlin asked, making a gesture with his hand. “When an inconvenient love-child turns up, you royals pay money and make they disappear?”

“We don’t do that!” Arthur said, offended. “Where did you get _that_ from?”

“Oh god.” He sat. “You’ve people collecting her as we speak and sending her to a scientific facility.”

Arthur rose up, incensed.

“Do you really think I would do that to _my child_?”

The man just blinked at him.

“She’s a liability and you hate magic” he explained to Arthur as if he were a small child.

“ _My father_ hates magic” Arthur corrected, stiffly. “Don’t presume to know my stance.”

They said nothing for a while, locked in a stare contest before Merlin shook his head and spoke again.

“So, no facilities and no Kuwait. What are you planning, then?”

“I want to meet Emiry.”

“Enmyria” Merlin corrected immediately.

“Enmyria” repeated Arthur, taking a deep breath. “Morgana never informed me that she had gotten pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I will ignore the child now that I know.”

Merlin let out a bitter laughter.

“One of the many things Morgana failed to inform me in almost thirteen years together was that she had an affair with the Prince of Wales.”

“It was not an affair!” Arthur spluttered, indignant. “And I was not Prince of Wales” he insisted, while Merlin just stared at him, disbelieving.

“I’m not sure if anyone explained to you how babies are conceived, but…”

Arthur shook his head, in a much bigger show of emotion than his usual demeanor.

“It was just a… One off. A single night.”

That made Merlin snort.

“What?” Arthur demanded, annoyed.

“She always said it was a one-night stand” the man replied shrugging. “She just failed to mention what a royal fuck up it was.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, but Merlin grinned and there was so much hurt in his smile that Leon flinched involuntarily.

“She never told me either” Arthur reminded him. “I feel as betrayed as you do.”

“She _tried_ to tell you” argued the other man. “She _flat out refused_ to _ever_ let me know.”

“ _I_ am the father!” the prince claimed, indignantly.

“And _I_ was the man actually raising her!” yelled Merlin, his nerves completely frayed.

The two of them glared at each other for a long while, and for a moment Leon thought he was going to have to intervene to stop them from actually fighting about it. Then, slowly, the tension dissipated, as Arthur leaned towards Merlin and spread his palms up in a gesture of peace.

“She hid it from both of us” he compromised, finally. “And you’re right, you _did_ raise her. I’ve missed it all, although I didn’t mean to. So, tell me about her, Merlin, please. Tell me about my daughter.”

And with a tight smile and a long sigh, Merlin started to speak.

* * *

 

It felt like Arthur’s head would never stop spinning. More than half of what Annis and Merlin had told him about the hardships of such a situation was immediately forgotten, the only thing that he could think was “ _I have a child”_. Of course, he already had two other wonderful daughters, but this one – Morgana’s – was different. He repeated Enmyria’s name a number of times, trying to feel it against his tongue.

Merlin gave him a handful of pictures of the girl he had found around his archives in the studio, and he delighted himself with the sight of her. In a few minutes he watched her grow from a blond toddler that looked very much like himself (albeit with girly clothes), to almost a young woman, with all of Morgana’s charms and his golden hair. One of the last pictures had been of the two of them together, mother and daughter, taken a couple of weeks before Morgana’s death. The two of them were using hoses in some sort of water fight, and although they were soaking wet, their smiles could light whole solar systems.

Part of him hated that he could never have such moments with any of his children, and another part of him felt relieved that something that was, in a sense, part of him could live a normal life.

Still, it all made sense in a weird way – how upset she had been about his denials, why she had even listened to him in the first place, why she had said that she had enough and why she had shunned everyone that tried to create some sort of bridge between them. She had removed everyone that was in any way connected to Arthur from her life, save Gaius – and from what he had heard at the funeral; even he hadn’t seen her for almost two years after their argument.

It made Arthur feel incredibly frustrated and even angry at her; in a way he didn’t know he could be angry with dead people. Morgana could have told him – and of course that he would have proposed to her and turned her into family. She would have made a beautiful bride, and their daughter would have been born under a number of celebrations, loved by all.

Morgana knew _everything_ about him. She would have made sure that he’d be as happy as he could be – and Arthur would have done everything in his power to make sure she was happy as well. Even in the (probable) event that they’d divorce after a couple of years, he wouldn’t be forced to re-marry. His father never had.

She _knew_ all this, and yet, Morgana had kept him in the dark and led him straight into Vivian’s clutch, into a loveless marriage with a woman that he couldn’t fully trust and that he could never leave. Well, Morgana _had_ told him a number of times that Vivian would do anything for the crown, and was dangerous for that; told him often enough that she was more than just a pretty face.

It was so typical of Morgana to make decisions for others; as it was very unsurprising that she’d keep him from taking the easy way out – or, in this case, _not_ out.

Of course – not having married Vivian would have meant not having his daughters, that he loved with all his heart. Elena was his pride and joy, and Sophia was growing into a model girl, he could see that she’d be the perfect Queen.

 _That_ was not the problem; he was happy in his children as much as he was miserable in his marriage. Uther had pressed for Vivian, and Arthur couldn’t say no. One woman is much like the next when none of them can hold your heart. He did his duty and courted her, romanced her for a bit and eventually asked her to marry him. From the files that Annis had dug up, he knew that this was when Morgana had deemed it safe for her to return to the country, a couple weeks before the wedding.

Arthur had hoped that he’d be able to fool Vivian just as he had fooled every other girl that he had taken on a few casual dates. He didn’t expect her to notice anything amiss – he indeed believed her to be just another pretty face.

But Vivian… He couldn’t love her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire some of her qualities. She was no fool – she played the shy girl for the world to see, the harmless and soft woman, but that was all it was, a play, a part. In reality, she was critical and analytic, she paid attention to details and struggled for perfection. She had made Arthur her object of study and read him like a book from the few moments in which his _own_ mask slipped off. She had followed his eyes when he couldn’t keep them pretending and she had learned enough from it.

Maybe it had been because his own body had betrayed him to her on the first few days of marriage.

For a while, he had thought that she had no clue as to why it had happened, but time told him differently. Vivian cut her hair short and cropped, much to the surprise and the disgust of his family, given up the sundresses for formal suits and started to lose so much weight that after two months she had to send her wedding ring to be resized. Of course, the press was all over it in a tick; wondering if she was depressed or suffering from bulimia; her statement saying that she was on a diet rose a whole media argument over anorexia.

Four months after their marriage, she had become a small thing, full of angles and bones, all the curves gone. Arthur had fretted over her, as worried as the rest of them, so when she came to his chambers unannounced and started kissing him as if it was a military attack, he let her. He hated to think he was responsible for her misery.

But it hadn’t been misery that had made her change so radically. Vivian wasn’t one to allow herself to be drowned by despair. It was all strategy. She kept her large shirt on, but even after she took off her bra and dropped her trousers to the floor, she still had a belt on her. Arthur had spluttered, denied and tried to move away, but Vivian didn’t believe his lies. With swift and precise moves, she had made it clear that he couldn’t hide from her anymore.

That night, she had fucked him into the mattress, and as he grew close and eager, she rode him as if her life depended on it. When he tried to talk to her, she brushed it off, promising him that they would make it work. There was a twinkle in her eyes just then, a smile, and Arthur couldn’t fight her. She was on to him, and he wouldn’t keep her out of his sight.

She came back on the following night, and the one after that; always with the same routine.

Three months later, she told him she was pregnant for the first time.

For a while, then, Arthur had believed her – believed they could make it work somehow, in spite of everything. But pregnancy changed everything – she became demanding and angry; although never in public. The people had celebrated the news, and Sophia had been the most gorgeous child.

He wanted Vivian to feel happy so bad that he allowed her to choose the name by herself.

After that, everything changed. Vivian had what she wanted – a child – and it was as if she had no longer any use for Arthur; which would have been fine by him, if she didn’t become so bitter and mean.

Elena had come two years later, and marked the end of any sort of marital relations between them. Inside their own rooms, they were strangers. Outside, they’d still be the perfect couple. In a funny way, it didn’t seem to bother her – living a lie – even as it became an increasingly heavy burden for him.

In many ways, Vivian was very much like Morgana – and that may even be the reason why they had always hated each other, even in school. They were both complete control freaks, and wanted to be in charge of everything, including his bodyguards. She even tried to move Leon to Sophia’s guard; but Arthur had put his foot down and kept him against her wishes. She would never claim her due, but she would still guard her privilege jealously. Arthur never bothered to do the same – as long as she was discreet, he wouldn’t blame her for finding love elsewhere.

It was a tangled web of duty and lies, and all of that could have been avoided if Morgana had only _told_ him about it before she left.

But now it would do no good to dream about what had never happened. The only thing left to do was to deal with the mess that she had created in their lives.

* * *

 

Merlin walked inside and found his oldest daughter finishing up with the dishes. He looked at the scene for a moment, surprised at how peaceful everything seemed.

“Where are they?” he asked her, confused.

Kara turned around and raised an eyebrow, as if questioning him just _why_ he was walking inside and acting as if they hadn’t been visited by the fucking Prince of Wales in their office. After a few seconds, she accepted that he wasn’t about to tell her anything just yet, and answered:

“Well, Tristan and Mordred are finishing their homework – I’m not sure about Em, she’s probably chatting online or something. Freya is already asleep.”

“Oh” he said, tilting his head. “Early night, then.”

His daughter nodded.

“Yeah. When Gwen brings them home, it’s a blessing. She always cooks and makes sure they have bathed – it makes everything much easier. My godfather, he never does that.” Merlin made an understanding gesture with his head; Will would starve before cooking for himself, so of course he wasn’t about to cook for anyone else. “And then I arrive here, and they’re all making such a mess, trying to cook – although Em is getting quite good at it – but they still get way too many things dirty. It’s confusing.”

The man said nothing, there was very little to speak about it. Mostly, by the time he arrived, everything was half-way to clean.

“Kay is here” Kara said, and he just frowned. They both had been in the house more often than not in the last few months, so he couldn’t really see the point in the comment. “Alvar was supposed to pick him up earlier today, but…” she shrugged.

“It’s fine” he said, finding his voice again after some struggle.

“It better be” Kara muttered under her breath before putting down the last of the dishes and turning to him. “I’m going to leave him here tonight, I have plans.”

“What? Do you have a _date_?” Merlin spluttered, his eyes wide.

It wouldn’t be the first or the last time that Kara was out with a boy, but he always worried – with good reason, since he hadn’t even known she was taking an interest in them before she showed up pregnant. His daughter took one look at his face and broke down, laughing.

“I’m not twelve, you know?” she reminded him, with a smile and a sparkle in her green eyes. “And, no, I’ll be out with the girls – Sara and Rita – and I won’t be driving, don’t worry. Kay’s sleeping in Freya’s spare bed.”

“It’s Thursday!” he complained. It was always hell to deal with the morning rush, and even more so when there was a toddler in the midst of it.

“I’ll be here in the morning, don’t worry” she told him, leaning against the counter.

“Fine. But you’ll take Tristan and Freya for Saturday – you may even drive them to Gaius and Alice; it will be good for them.”

“Tristan and Freya?” Kara asked, pulling an inquiring face. “But not Mordred or Em?”

“I have plans with them.”

“Is it related to the mysterious visit earlier?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes – they found her father” he informed, passing his hand through his hair. “So, you’ll take them on Saturday?”

“Okay” she replied, eventually. Kara still waited around for a few seconds, before shaking her head and leaving to make herself ready.

For a while, he just walked in the first floor – moving from the kitchen to the dining room, in which he could see some collage work from Freya still drying; and then to the living room, where the DVD was still on although the TV was off. He opened up the office door and stared inside where things lay perfectly organized – no one had used it since Morgana. There was pain and anger in his chest when he thought about her now. The secrets and the omissions made him feel as if he had been somehow fooled. The more he thought about it, he more it hurt.

 He couldn’t help but notice that Enmyria was a stylized and feminized form of “Emir”, the Welsh word for prince (Merlin had learned Welsh before he said a single word of English); very fitting for a child that could have been Princess of Wales.

Random things kept on popping up in his head, things that made much more sense now. When the Queen had died, Morgana had looked fearful; he had thought that it had something to do with Uther’s well known hatred for sorcerers – maybe not. She would always roll eyes when Gaius wanted to see the King’s speech on Christmas Day; and she _always_ had something negative to say about Princess Vivian. Merlin didn’t think she had been jealous, but now he knew it was more than just a passing distaste, it was rather personal. She’d ignore any positive report about Prince Arthur, but seemed to relish in the bad things that the press said, all while acting as if she couldn’t find the whole idea of Monarchy more medieval.

And in _many_ ways, it _was_ an antiquated structure; Morgana had counted on it and benefited from it as much as Em would be damaged by it. He could almost understand _why_ she hadn’t wanted her child to grow up in such environment, her life a media circus; but now… He couldn’t deny her the right to know, could he? Could he lie, as her mother had lied, both to the girl he had raised and to the man that had come to him pleading for a chance to get to know the child he never knew he had? Would he be able to be _so_ cruel, even if it might be the best for her?

Merlin knew the answer almost at the same time as he asked himself that – it wasn’t his place, and _nothing_ guaranteed that Arthur wouldn’t go behind his back and find a way to get to Em anyway. It might protect her, but it may also make everything even worse, all of them much more scarred when the truth eventually came up – as it inevitably would.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the door and turned back to reach for the stairs. He used every single step between the office and Enmyria’s room to steel himself, to get ready to give her the half-answers he and Arthur had agreed on. Even as he knocked, he hoped that she’d be already asleep, but it wasn’t a lucky day for Merlin.

“Come in” she said, and he did it, albeit reluctantly. “Oh, hey.”

“Hello” he replied, his voice weak with tension.

“What's up?” Em asked, looking at his troubled face.

He cleared his throat and moved to sit on her bed, under her watchful gaze.

“So, I received news from the royals today” Merlin said, and the girl opened up her eyes. For a moment, a smile came and vanished once again, looking at his stance.

“They didn’t find anything” she sighed, and it would have been easy, so easy to lie, but her voice was dead and his heart clenched.

“Actually, they did” he answered, trying to summon a smile for her. “They found him.”

The girl let out a shriek, standing up and doing a happy dance. Merlin couldn’t avoid a smile, or the question of how much of her natural perkiness would be lost if she indeed became a public figure.

“So?!” she asked, sitting down again, and smiling. “Who is he? Where is he?” and for a second she stopped, looking at him. “Don’t tell me he’s dead too.”

“No” he said, with a sad grin. “He’s very much alive, and wants to meet you.”

The smile lit up her whole face.

“So you’ve contacted him already?! How come?! You said you only had heard from them today!”

Merlin took a moment to actually speak, trying to stay as close to the truth as possible.

“Leon knows him well” he said. “And plans have already been made for the two of you to meet – that is, if you want to.”

“ _Of course_ I want to!” she said, shaking with excitement. “When? Where? Who is he? Tell me everything!”

The way she said the last sentence was so deeply reminiscent of her mother that Merlin felt a fresh pang. He smiled through it, gesturing her to sit back down.

“We are first to attend an event in which you’ll get acquainted with his social circle and after it, then, you’ll meet him – and his family – privately.”

“An event?” she asked, somewhat frustrated. “What sort of event?”

“The Royal Windsor Horse Show.”

Enmyria gaped for a good while before being able to speak again, and Merlin imagined just how stupid he must have looked doing the same in front of the prince.

“What?”

“You heard me” he said, shaking his head. “He insists on it – that you enjoy the day and the company before meeting him.”

Enmyria shook her head.

“I’m not sure if I’m more worried that he’s rich or that he’s bonkers. The Royal Windsor Horse Show? Really? Couldn’t it be something more… _familiar_?”

He felt sorry for her then, there was _nothing_ like what she had learned to consider familiar where her father came from.

“I’m afraid not” he replied, sadly. “He comes from an old family, and he’s used to such things – you know how they are, strange and inbred – he expects you to adapt to it, I guess… Or at least have a taste of it, before deciding if you want to know more of it.”

For a while, she remained quiet, as if thinking about it.

“You still haven’t told me who he is” she poked him lightly, and Merlin shook his head.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Merlin asked, and she nodded fiercely, her eyes wide and expecting. He took a deep breath. “It’s His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”

There was a second of silence before a screech cut the air.

“HOLY BUGGERING FUCK!”

And Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.


	11. The Second Snap - And a Bang (12 weeks P.M.D)

Enmyria had come home from school for just about time enough to have moved the whole of her wardrobe on her bed while she fretted about just _what_ she could possibly wear on the following morning. It would have been terrifying enough if she was _just_ meeting her father or _just_ attending a royal party; but being _both_ made her close to hysterical tears while she pictured herself in a terrible dress and being mocked by the Princesses as if she were Cinderella.

She didn’t even have a _hat_!

Em was ready to crawl into the tiny little bit of bed that had no clothes on and cry herself until she had managed to calm down when a light knock sounded and Kara walked in.

“Hey” the girl said, eyeing the mess of clothes with a frown. “Wardrobe malfunction?”

“I have nothing to wear” she moaned, shaking her head dramatically. “It’s going to be humiliating.” Em closed her eyes for effect, before opening them again and eyeing her almost-sister with a frown. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Dad says I’m being useless and looking thoroughly hungover” Kara replied, with a grin. “He asked me to come and help you with ‘the girl things, you know’ – his exact words. Now, I have a credit card and I’m not afraid to use it, so, I may be the solution to your prayers. ”

“Bless him” agreed the teenager, taking a deep breath. “I was already sure I was going to be barred at the entrance.”

“The first thing” Kara said, with a practical approach, “is to put this all back into place, you know he’ll have an heart attack if he arrives to find your wardrobe all over.”

The oldest girl offered her a hand and helped her to stand up, and as soon as Em was up, she started grabbing things and putting them back in their proper place.

“Now, first things first: where exactly are you going?”

Em half-turned around and stared at her, surprised that she didn’t know.

“The Royal Windsor Horse Show” she said, putting on some things back in place. “And I don’t have a hat!”

Kara chuckled at her exasperation, before addressing the issue.

“Oh. So, should I assume that whomever your secret father is, he’s disgustingly rich and posh and as close to royalty as they can be” she glanced at a handful of old My Little Pony t-shirts. “Does that even fit you anymore?”

“I use it to sleep” Em told her. “And, yes, of course. Why is it that you’re not surprised?”

“I think I lost my ability to be surprised after the Prince of Wales dropped by the office yesterday” Kara said with humor. “Anything else won’t even get near that scale – unless you’re Morgana’s love-child with the prince himself.”

She turned to Em, still smiling, but it fell apart when she saw the look in the girl’s face.

“No way” Kara said, her eyes bulging.

“Never call me a love-child again” was Em's only reply, her nerves so agitated that she involuntarily opened up the windows. “I _really_ don’t need any more regency-era elements in my life right now.”

“No shit” the older girl said, moving to shut the windows and close the curtains. “I think it’s better if we do this with magic – it’ll be good for your nerves.”

The blond girl just looked for a second before nodding and thrusting the biggest part of her clothes back inside the wardrobe at once. It did ease some of the tension. She never wanted to run to Gaius and Alice’s far away farm and release it all into the wild as much as she did now – not even at her mother’s death. She felt jittery, and it was clear by the way the hangers kept on hitting against each other.

“It’s absolutely insane” Em started, feeling as if the words were getting out of her with as little control as her magic. “It’s illogical and unreal – I mean, he’s _the prince_! And Princess Vivian is just gorgeous, how could he even…?”

Kara shook her head, uncompromising.

“I don’t think they got together until after you were already born” she offered, as a consolation, and Em scowled at her. “Now, Morgana was much prettier than her.”

“I don’t even know _why_ my mother hid it from everyone – even from him, we found out with a paternity test! Your dad thinks she’d have told me when I was old enough. Now, how would that go? ‘Happy birthday! By the way, what I’ve been hiding from you all those years is that you’re really a bastard princess. Congratulations!’”

There was a mocking tone in her voice, and Kara laughed at her words, which made her grin as well.

“But you are!” her sister said, still laughing. “You’re The Secret Bastard Princess. They’ll write books about your life and make an ITV film over your dramatic childhood without your rightful place. Of course, I’ll be the first to sell information about you for a ridiculously high price.”

“God help me” Em muttered, which just led the other girl to have a fit of giggles. “You’re supposed to be helping!” she accused, and Kara sobered up.

“So, you’re meeting His Royal Hotness tomorrow…” she started, before Em spluttered.

“Don’t!”

“Oh, right. I can’t call him that anymore, can I?” Kara wondered, tilting her head.

“I’d really rather you didn’t” agreed the blond girl, with a sigh.

“Again: you’re meeting His Highness tomorrow” she corrected herself, and Em smiled gratefully at her. “For the first time. And after that?”

“What do you mean, after that?” The girl asked, frowning.

“Do you plan to keep in touch or…? Have you _really_ thought about it, Em?” she looked at her with something like pity. “I mean… If you do, it will come out. People will know, and they’ll talk. I was just teasing before, but it’s _very_ likely that there will be a media circus about you. Are you ready for that?”

Em felt herself grow cold at that. Of course, Kara was right, and she hadn’t really thought it through. This may be exactly the reason why her mother had chosen to keep her undercover. Still, it was pretty useless to worry about it before she even met the man – he might never want to see her again, or just hope he’d convince her to silently disappear. Maybe they’d send her somewhere far away – Australia would be nice.

“I’ll go tomorrow” she said, finally. “And then… Then we’ll see. I won’t worry before I have to. It won’t help – one crisis at a time. Right now, I need something to _wear.”_

As if on a cue, the doorbell rang, and after a few seconds, she heard Will’s annoyed voice downstairs.

“Em, it’s for you!”

She knew better than to keep anyone waiting when Will was in such a mood, so she ran downstairs and met a handsome young man, just slightly older than Kara, dressed in a dark suit and carrying a huge box.

“Hey” she said, belatedly remembering she was still in her uniform, and that her hair was a mess. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve been sent to deliver you this” the man said, formally, after a small bow. “From, err, Sir Leon.”

“I didn’t even know he was a sir” she muttered, grabbing the box. “I… Thank you?”

“It’s my pleasure” he said, smoothly, and with another small bow, he walked away. She stood at the door for a moment longer as he walked into a black indistinctive car and drove away. Kara showed up on the stairs a moment later, shaking her out of her dazed state.

“What it?” she asked, as Em ran back up the stairs with the package.

“Something from Leon” the girl replied, resting the box on the bed and lifting the lid.

“Did you even check if it is safe?” Kara wondered, crossing her arms at her chest.

“I’m sure it is” Em uttered, her voice firm. “It _feels_ good.”

“Right” Kara said, easing again. “So, open it!”

Em didn’t need to be asked twice. The big box held a pretty dress of dark green with thin red stripes that crossed it in a delicate tartan. As she picked it and raised it, she felt how soft the fabric was, and wondered how it would feel against her skin. The neckline was squared, but very modest, and there were three red satin ribbons to mark the waist. It had an A shaped skirt, but it would fit her well, since it would give her more hip volume than she actually had. All in all, it was absolutely complementary to her appearance – from the colors to the shape, it was just perfect. Kara was gaping at it, and Em handed it to her and grabbed the small hat that had been sent with it – small, discreet and dark green with a red ribbon and a flower that were the only details on it.

It wasn’t a princess dress, but it was finer than anything she owned, in the very details of its careful crafting. She wanted to try it right away, but Kara didn’t let her take the dress back.

“You’re dirty and I’m not letting you put it on before you take a GOOD shower!” she said, pushing her to the bathroom. “And make it quick, I want to see you in it and we still have tons to do!”

“What do you mean?” Em asked, opening up the hot water and allowing it to flow. “I’ve something to wear now!”

“Which leaves us with hair, manicure and shoes to be still seen to today” answered Kara, counting on her fingers. “So, you better hurry up!”

Enmyria knew better than to argue with that, so she took off her clothes as fast as she could and jumped in the shower. She had just put her head under the jet of water when she heard Kara’s shriek.

“Oh, there are clothes for Mordred and Dad too!” she announced, walking back into the bathroom as if Em wasn’t naked inside it. “And I’m stuck with baby sitting. This is _so not fair_!”

Em couldn’t help but laugh as the other girl set on the edge of the toilet cover.

“I’ll try to send you pictures” she replied, evenly.

“Never mind pictures” Kara made a hand gesture to agree with her words. “What I want is a telephone number.”

“What?” She asked, reaching for the soap. “What number?”

“There’s this guy on the Prince’s security team – his name is Percival. As I’ll be watching your siblings tomorrow while you enjoy yourself…”

“They’re your siblings too” cut Em, but Kara ignored her.

“As I’ll be watching your siblings” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “It is your duty as an almost-sister to get his number for me.”

“How will I even…” she started, but Kara was far ahead of her.

“He’s like, the tallest, fittest guy you’ve ever seen. I _swear_ it’ll be easy to recognize him – tall, well-built, gorgeous. Short fair hair and green eyes – maybe blue, I’m not sure. Anyway, you can always ask _your dad_.”

“Oh god. You’re planning to hook up with one of the Prince’s – my father’s – security man?”

“What’s the problem with that?” the older girl asked, looking at herself in the mirror. “You haven’t even been introduced to the family yet and you’re already becoming elitist?”

“Shut up” was the only proper answer to it. “It’s just that… Most of those guys are _dumb_.”

“I don’t think he is” Em couldn’t see Kara anymore because of the vapor. “He’s actually a pretty decent guy – we talked for over half an hour yesterday and he didn’t sound dumb. Well, when he _did_ speak.”

It made the younger girl laugh out loud.

“What, you attacked him?”

“No!” was the outraged reply. “He was on duty and we were waiting for Mrs. Hurst to come and pick a toddler’s pink coat. Not very romantic, I’d say.”

“So he just kept silent because he couldn’t think of what to say?” teased Em, glad to think of something other than her own crazy life.

“I think you’re being prejudiced” announced Kara, as Em stepped out and started to dry herself with a towel. “Even smart guys can work in security – Lance worked as a security for a few years before he decided what he wanted to do with his life and went on to work on Amnesty International. He’s the ultimate proof that a man can be handsome, smart, fit and gallant at the same time.”

“I thought you had got over your pre-pubescent infatuation” nagged Em, giggling, and Kara had the grace to blush.

“I got over the insane idea that I’d grow up to be The Woman Who Steals Him Away From Gwen, which is just as well, since he never looks at anyone but her – another of his many qualities – but that _doesn’t_ mean I don’t think he’s everything a man _should_ be. I’m just aware now that he’ll never think of me that way and that most man just _won’t_ meet his high standard.”

“That sounds like a crush to me!” It was time to pay back the earlier teasing.

“Oh, _do_ shut up!” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “ _Your_ pre-pubescent crush was _Alvar_ and he’s _nothing_ to be in awe about. He’s actually quite lame.”

It was Em’s turn to blush. She had been barely eleven when Kara had brought Alvar home for the first time, and he had seemed very _sophisticated_ and _charming_. Of course, time had shown them both that this was nothing but an elaborated mask.

“You’re the one who slept with him” was all that she could say in her defense. “Repeatedly.”

“Which is a very good proof that hormones and drinks mustn’t be mixed” Kara said, standing up and heading towards the bedroom. “I’m the poster girl against teenage drinking. Now, come on, we’ve got a dress to try on and perfect shoes to find.”

There was nothing that Em could do but wrap herself in her towel and follow.

* * *

 

Arthur fretted for hours over how exactly he was going to break the news of Enmyria’s existence to his little family circle. He couldn’t see any way of avoiding Vivian’s scandal and backlash, and there was nothing his father despised more than Vivian’s sudden outbreaks of temper – for all he had championed the marriage (or, more accurately, bullied Arthur into it); he had grown to abhor his daughter-in-law after she had felt secure enough in her position to just be herself. Arthur couldn’t even pretend not to understand his father’s stance, especially when he readied himself for another of her tantrums.

Eventually, he decided to do it the only way he knew how: as a Prince, making an announcement. Arthur tried to made an effort to be at the palace in time for dinner, but by the time he arrived, Vivian and the girls were already finishing up their desserts. It was just as well – he was so tense that he didn’t think he could face any food at all.

They all turned to him as he walked in, and he smiled, trying to ease himself. He was confident that he could handle Sophia and Elena, and it was to them that he turned as he spoke.

“When you’re done, I’d love to talk to you in the sitting room.”

Sophia gave him a graceful nod, but Elena crammed the final bite of her pie into her mouth and jumped from the chair.

“I’m done!” she yelled, making her mother snap.

“Elena! How many times? Princesses do not yell, and _no one_ should speak with their mouth full. It’s disgusting!” she turned to her husband then, her face all polite interest. “Am I invited as well, or do you wish to speak only with the girls?”

“No, you should come too” he answered, distractedly, before turning back to his youngest child. “Do as your mother says, Elena. When you’re done chewing _and_ cleaning your teeth, you can come.”

He didn’t waste another second before bolting to the comfort of the sitting room. It was full of happy memories – Sophia’s first steps had been here, and Elena’s first words too. Back then, the traditional furniture had been pushed away to make space for children’s toys and safety mantles, but Vivian had ordered everything back in place right after Elena turned three. She said it was time that they learned grace. Arthur wondered if his youngest had never done so as an instinctive act of rebellion against the loss of her safe place.

Arthur sat himself in the biggest armchair, and as they walked in, Sophia and Elena arranged themselves on the sofa facing him – the first one with a natural grace, and the latter as if she was a sack of potatoes rather than a person with limbs – while Vivian perched herself on the sofa facing the fireplace (lit, even during the spring). Once, she might have chosen the armchair next to him, a smaller version of his, but nowadays she wouldn’t use it unless they were lecturing the girls.

He knew it wouldn’t be easier if he took longer, so he cleared up his throat and started.

“As you all know, we have an official engagement tomorrow” Arthur said, his voice calm. “A very important one and the eyes of the world will be upon us, so I hope you’ll behave like true Princesses of the Realm and make us proud.” The girls nodded, and Elena beamed. She and a couple of other girls were going to make a small presentation with their horses at the beginning of the event, and she was extremely excited. “And even more than that – we will have a very special guest that I want _all of you_ to treat with the utmost respect and complete consideration.”

Arthur made a pause – this was the hard part. He didn’t even know where to start.

“Who?” piped Elena, always anxious.

“Ms. Enmyria LeFay, my firstborn” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

The girls stared at him, and Arthur didn’t even dare to turn his head enough to see Vivian’s face. Elena was actually gaping, and his wife must be seething if she hadn’t yet barked that it wasn’t a princely thing to do. The silence stretched interminably, and it was Sophia that broke it.

“I beg your pardon?” She sounded unfailingly polite, but there was something hard and dark in her look. “I must have misheard something, father, for I could swear you said Ms. LeFay was your firstborn; which can’t possibly be right since _I_ am your firstborn.”

He had never wanted to flinch so much in the presence of his children, but he wouldn’t allow himself such a reaction even when alone, let alone in front of them. He would make no show of his weakness.

“You’re his first true-born, darling” said Vivian, her voice soothing. “Ms. LeFay is but a bastard girl.”

“I prefer the term ‘natural daughter’, thank you” Arthur replied, stiffly, before looking back at the girls. “Still, your mother is right. Enmyria may be my firstborn, but you, Sophia, are my heir; and I hope that you behave as such tomorrow – do remember that a Queen is to be the mother of her people; so it would be most unfitting for you to treat your half-sister with anything other than perfect courtesy.”

Sophia nodded, albeit a bit tensely after those words; but he felt that he owed all of them more than that.

“The reason why you’ve never heard any of this before is that _I_ didn’t know about her existence myself until a few days ago. Her mother never wanted any of us to have the burden of the gossip that would surely follow the discovery of a natural daughter, but after her mother’s untimely death last winter, the girl started to look for the father that she never knew. Luckily, she asked for my help, and we discovered that she was my own.”

“You never knew her mother was pregnant?” Sophia inquired, cynically.

“Morgana left the country early on her pregnancy, and I’ve never seen her since. She wasn’t back in England for years, from what I heard. So, no, I honestly had no idea.”

The twelve-year-old nodded with a serious face.

“Was she your girlfriend?” asked Elena, curious.

“She was… A very special friend” he said, lamely. Vivian snorted, and he was surprised that she’d allow herself such unladylike noise.

“So you got sad when she left, yeah?” the little girl piped on. “And mom came around and made everything happier!”

Arthur couldn’t help a smile when he heard her sweet words, even if it hurt a bit. Although Vivian never seemed to care much for her youngest girl, she clearly still thought the world of her mother.

“Yes. But none of this is Enmyria’s fault. She’s just a girl, caught in the middle of it. She has never met me, and I intend for us to meet her after the Show, alone, but I invited her to come – with her step-father and half-brother – so she can get acquainted with all of us in a more general environment before our first private meeting. I trust you both to be agreeable to her and to shield her from any sort of public issue; I have no wish to publicly announce her existence just yet.”

That made Sophia smile, while Elena promised to be ‘very very nice’; and Arthur sent the two girls away; reassured that they’d do their best – out of a wish to make him proud, even if they weren’t ready yet to accept his oldest daughter as their sister.

“You don’t seem surprised” Arthur told his wife as the girls left, chattering about the newest developments.

“I already knew about it” Vivian responded with a tiny elegant shrug.

“What do you mean you _knew_?” Arthur asked, confused.

Vivian’s eyes were cold and careless when she replied.

“You’re such a fool Arthur – so trusting! Do you _really_ believe that Morgana never tried to reach you? That she never tried to… She came _here_ the moment she returned to the country!” Vivian shook her head, her white-blond curls bobbing alongside. “She came here and tried to make an appointment. The girl in the desk was new – Sara, do you remember her? She asked _me_ what she should do. I made sure to tell Sara that Morgana was _persona non-grata_ in the building.”

Arthur swallowed dry, too full of anger to think properly. It burned hot under his skin, and it made him tremble. He should have known – Vivian was right, he was foolish and trusting. He had trusted _her_ to be his partner, after all, and she had turned out to be nothing more than a snake in the grass.

“But I _was_ curious” Vivian continued, her tone mocking. “What could _possibly_ have made her change her mind? Morgana had been quite clear before leaving that she never wanted to hear from any of us again. So I had her tracked and I staged a chance encounter in the park I was told she took her baby to sunbathe in the mornings. I blabbed at her and I cooed at the brat, even took her in my arms for a bit, although Morgana seemed ready to strike me – no doubt she _would_ _have_ if I hadn’t been escorted. I _knew_ as soon as I saw the girl; she looked just like you at the same age. Still, I was careful enough to get some of her spit and send it to the lab to confirm my suspicions. At least, it made it very clear _why_ Morgana had come around – it was _obvious_ she wanted to inflict the little bastard upon you and make you pay for her own irresponsibility. Well, I wasn’t going to have _that_. I made sure that she would stay away with a few well-aimed threats.”

For once in his life, Arthur was grateful for his upbringing, which allowed him to remain impassible while he heard all about it. Vivian seemed to take a special pleasure in telling him every little detail of her unforgivable behavior, as if she had longed for a chance to do so – and she indeed had, she had been waiting, twelve whole years of it.

“I thought, then, that Morgana wanted you for herself. I thought she wanted to break our engagement, that she wanted to steal the man I was intended to marry. The brat also had me fooled – it made me believe that things between you weren’t as they seemed to be. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? She _knew_ , she _always knew_ about your little perversion. She was trying to _give you a way out_. I was a stupid, romantic girl hoping for a fairy tale; I should have noticed it before. I was too young and too naïve to notice that it was completely absurd that you wanted us to live chastely before the marriage when you knew I was no blushing virgin. You spoke of appearances and traditions, the filthy hypocrite that you are – it was not about that. It never was about that. You could never stand the sight of a woman’s body – you could never lie with me if I wasn’t carrying my own prick.” There was something hard and feral in her smile, and she walked around him, taunting him with moves as well with words. “And Morgana _knew_ that, didn’t she? I _bet_ she used a big, large one, that she made you _beg_ for it before she had her way with you, hoping to get pregnant.”

“It wasn’t like that” slipped from his mouth unbidden, and Vivian's maniac grin only got bigger.

“No? So maybe your _beloved_ Leon took you from behind while you mounted her? Or did he _blindfold_ you so you wouldn’t see her disgusting female form kicking at your hips? Did you often do that, the three of you?”

Arthur gritted his teeth at that, but there was no denying that his body had had some primal response to the images Vivian was describing; even if it wasn’t _Leon_ that had showed in his imagination, but dark hair and full lips wrapping around him, such a _perfect_ way to shut it up... She eyed the faint bulge and her lips became so stretched that they might have broken by themselves. None of it had even a tiny iota of truth in it, but she had all the confession she might have wanted from nature itself.

 “It hurts, doesn’t it?” she went on, mocking worry in her voice. “Finding out that you were fooled all along…”

“Enough” he said, before she started it all over again. “I’ve heard enough, Vivian.”

It silenced her, but it didn’t remove the smirk from her face. For some moments, he just welcomed the silence.

“You will now get yourself ready to go to Elena’s presentation” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “And after that, you’ll be taken to Balmoral Castle, for a long needed vacation.”

She spluttered, indignantly.

“What, a time out?” she said, with a laugh. “This is real life, Arthur, not a playground.”

He ignored her and went on.

“I’ll let the personnel know that you’ll be staying for three months. I think it will be enough.”

“For you or for me?” she wondered, sweet as poison.

“For both of us” he answered, truthfully. “You’ll have time to put your affairs in order and find yourself adequate quarters before I officially announce our intent to divorce.”

It gave him undeniable pleasure to see the shock on her face. Vivian couldn’t believe he was about to cast her away – and he almost couldn’t believe it himself, that he had the courage to make such a move; but this was _far_ beyond the scandal that his personal feelings could cause, he _couldn’t_ allow such a person to be in charge of his house, of his children, even if she _didn’t_ have the responsibility over a future head of state. There would be no safety or peace of mind for any of them while Vivian was around.

“You can’t be serious” she said, shaking her head, and her smile came back, full of confidence. “I have your secrets, and I swear to you, Arthur, if you cast me away, I will have no qualms whatsoever to reveal them to the whole world.”

He knew her well enough to know it to be true, but he could do to her just as she had done to him: hit her where it hurt the most.

“You have my secrets, it is true” he replied, calmly. “But I have the children.”

That made Vivian’s smile wither and die, and it was his turn to bare his teeth with a pure glint of steel.

“You know it as well as I do that it would be easy – so easy – to claim they weren’t mine and have the tests to prove it.”

That made her gasp, his treasonous wife, and he knew he had it right.

“You wouldn’t…” she said, but there was fear in her voice – Arthur would have been hurt by how little faith she had in his honor if it didn’t serve him so well now.

“Why not?” he said, a dark smile in his face. “And who would question it, if you told the world yourself that I was never _truly_ a man? It would be easy, Viv” he said, his voice silken. “So easy. And whatever came of the public disgrace, I would still have a natural daughter, undeniably mine, with my mother’s looks to prove it and a fairytale story to win the public’s good graces. What about you? What would _you_ have?”

The silence was heavy around them, with all the dark words and unspeakable treasons. It stretched, unending, covering the last fourteen years of secrets and lies between them.

“Fine” she acceded, finally. “Have it your way.”

Arthur prepared himself to leave – wishing with all his heart he never had to see her face ever again, when her voice rang in his ears once again, making him turn to face her.

“I will keep my silence, your Highness” she said, using the honorific for the first time ever. “But if I ever have any reason to suspect you’re about to elevate your dear little bastard above our daughters, I’ll drag your name in the mud, even if I get dragged down with you.”

There was something different in her posture now – it wasn’t her own pride or her own anger that she was fighting for with those words; she had, at last, put something above her own interests. Arthur bowed slightly.

“Have no fear on that account, my lady” he said, stiffly. “They are _my_ daughters after all.”

Arthur turned on his heels and walked out of the room. As the doors closed behind him, he knew he had just put an end to the most painful chapter of his life.

 

 


	12. Start Anew  -  Easier Said Than Done (12 Weeks P.M.D)

 

There are a few things in life that are more uncomfortable than going to a social gathering in which you don’t know anyone (anyone but the hosts, which is basically the same). There are also few things that are as painful as attending an event in which no one shares your social status (save, perhaps, The Help – but maybe not even them). That said Merlin had never been in a more awkward place in all his life (which is saying something, for he was often getting himself in terrible situations). Every look seemed to assess him, evaluate him as someone of ‘no consequence’ and discard him right away.

Mordred seemed almost at ease in a way that only children could – he was growing fast, but he was still a kid in many ways, including his utter lack of concern about how people were looking at him. Being carefully dressed in a light grey suit and with a much tamer hair than either of his parents, Mordred blended in well. He acted as aloof as most people in the enclosure where they stood – not because he was arrogant, but because his growing sensitivity to other people’s feelings and intents made it essential for him to keep a barrier between himself and the world around him.

Enmyria, on the other hand, was as stiff as a board. The dress Leon had sent her fit nicely, matching perfectly with the hat, and they weren’t inferior to any of the ensembles he saw around – much more tasteful than some complete disasters he witnessed. When he had taken a quick look at himself in the mirror before leaving the house, he had thought himself to look extremely elegant, there was something in the blue velvet that enhanced the whole of his look, but now he felt as a poor relation – which, of course, was just the ugly truth. He had even allowed Kara to dress his hair (into what she called artfully tousled), but it obviously wasn’t enough to fool the people around him.

They spent the first ten minutes looking around and unsure about what they should do, before Leon appeared out of the nowhere, his light-colored suit announcing that he wasn’t on duty. His face broke into a comforting smile as he saw them, and he excused himself from anyone wanting a word to walk right to where they stood.

“Ah, good” he said, beaming and offering Merlin a handshake. “Ranulf just gave me the message of your arrival – I’m sorry that I wasn’t down there to escort you back here” Em shifted awkwardly by his right side, Merlin put his hand lighly on her arm as a gesture of comfort. “I see that Owain managed the packages just well. I hope he also behaved appropriately.”

The last sentence was addressed directly to the teenager, and she blinked before answering, surprised that he expected her to speak.

“Oh, he was lovely, I guess. Never told me his name, but he was a perfect gentleman.”

Leon frowned at that, and Merlin knew that “not identifying” and “being a gentleman” didn’t match on his book. Mordred smirked at his father, while Em couldn’t stop looking from one side to the other. It didn’t take a seer to know what she was looking for.

“They haven’t come up yet – Her Royal Highness, the Princess Elena, is going to perform for the first time, so they’re all gathered to wish her good luck” explained the man, who clearly also had noticed her wandering eyes. “Although, His Majesty, King Uther, is just next door, if you want to…”

He left the phrase unfinished, hanging in the air, and Merlin felt his insides freezing. Surely, his step-child had felt the same, for her eyes widened.

“Does he know?” she whispered, leaning towards Leon.

“Not yet” the man answered, stiffly. “But if it is your wish…”

“I think I’m going to pass…” she started, before Merlin poked her. “the honor for now” she amended herself, although it wouldn’t have fooled anyone, yet, the man smiled at them.

“Still, there are a few people I’d like to introduce you to. May I?” he said, offering his arm to Em, who blushed a bit before taking it.

Merlin and Mordred had very little choice but to follow behind. After some steps, though, Leon stopped and waited for them to catch up, walking side by side.

After that, it was all a whirlwind of faces and names that he could barely keep in mind – there was Lord Eldred, Earl of Northumbria; followed by his four sons and two daughters; that, of course, Merlin couldn’t tell apart after five minutes; Lord Godwin, who was Princess Elena’s first Godfather and who doted on her so much that not even Leon’s strong hints managed to free them from all his tales and hopes for her; Lord Timor, who was Princess Sophia’s first godfather and that barely barked at them. There were also Lord Alined; who had a dissimulated face and still kept a jester (although, Mordred’s mind-whisper said that he was _not_ what he looked like); Lord Olaf, Princess Vivian’s father and a number of other.

It wasn’t all noble names and faces either – Leon took his time in introducing them to Annis Carleon, the woman who ran Arthur’s Public Relations with an iron fist; George, who was the Prince’s PA and incredibly dull, as well as a few of the security team; all of whom were in on the secret of Enmyria’s lineage. Unlike most of others, they had been unfailingly polite and warm towards them, but whether this was because they _knew_ that Em was of royal blood or just because they, like Leon, were naturally inclined to kindness, he could not tell.

He saw the way his step-daughter blushed as Owain stammered his apologies for his behavior on the previous day and complimented her appearance, and he and Leon shared a concerned look over it. Owain wasn’t yet twenty, and had a fresh sort of handsomeness that would turn many heads – they could just pray that Em wasn’t one of them, in spite of how it looked.

Merlin noticed as the Prince walked into the pavilion discreetly with his wife and one of the Princesses while they were being paraded around by Leon – but surely, it hadn’t escaped the man who saw everything and everyone all the time. He could only imagine that it would have looked weird if the two groups had met immediately; there were other people Arthur must attend to first, as the king and his father in law.

Finally, it seemed that Leon had already introduced them to everyone he possibly could, as he reached the last person – a man, who had been watching the edge of the fields with a pair of binoculars, his back turned on the gathering.

“Finally, this is His Grace, the Duke of Orkney – Your grace, this is Mr. Merlin Emrys…” the man said, but as the man let go of his gadget and turned to face them, Merlin could only gape while the other gave him a big, perfect smile.

His hair was cut shorter, but not so short that it stopped him from swiping it from his eyes in the same sensual movement that Merlin remembered so well. He was also clean shaven now, but it didn’t seem like such a loss as it revealed the mouth that had drove him crazy. The thirteen odd years since they had last met were only revealed by a few laughter lines around his eyes, and the sharper angle of his face. It was still undoubtedly and undeniably the same man.

“Gwaine” he said, softly, trying to hide his surprise.

“Merlin” the man replied, his grin getting wider. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I should be the one saying that” mumbled Merlin, while Leon looked from one to the other bewildered.

“Do you know each other?” he asked, and Gwaine threw his head back, laughing, the same carefree laugh that Merlin remembered, and he felt his knees wobble a bit – clearly, Gwaine still had the same intense magnetic charm that had caught Merlin’s eye.

“Biblically” the man answered, and Merlin flushed, hoping the kids hadn't understood his meaning. His embarrassed look made Gwaine notice them for the first time, and he sobered up a bit. “We’ve been friends for a long time – although we haven’t met for many years – enough for Merlin to get himself a clone” the duke turned his smile to Mordred, but it clearly didn’t affect him as it affected most people, the boy only seemed awkward. “You’re the spitting image of your father.”

“So I have been told” Mordred replied, tersely. That made Gwaine laugh once again.

“Now _that’s_ all Morgana’s upbringing, isn’t it?” he asked, before keeping on with his chatter. “How is she anyway? Is she here? I bet she’s still gorgeous – when people are as good looking as we are, the years don’t weight so much.”

All of them flinched at that, and even Gwaine quickly realized  there was something wrong. It was Enmyria who managed to speak first.

“She passed away last winter” the girl offered, and Gwaine looked like he wanted to hit himself, but, instead, he pulled Merlin into a hug.

“I’m sorry to hear that” he murmured, and Leon coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the public display of affection. Merlin had heard many words of condolences during the morning, but none were nearly as warm as Gwaine’s natural reaction.

“We should move on – I’d like to introduce you to the Princesses” the man said, but Gwaine just shook his head.

“Take the kids” he said, his arm still firmly around Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin and I still have a lot of talk about, and we also need some refreshments. We’ll catch up with you soon.”

Leon seemed unsure for a moment, but Merlin just nodded, acquiescing to it, and the three of them were gone.

“Now, my friend, we’ll talk” said Gwaine, with a gentle squeeze. “But first, we need booze and to get away from all these entitled people.”

Gwaine steered him away from the mass of people, straight into the bar and then past it. No one bothered them – Gwaine had a smile and some kind words for every member of the staff, and it was clear that they weren’t surprised to see him around, going through the kitchens and out to the yard behind it. It sported a picnic table, partially covered with spare items for the kitchen staff, and a couple of benches. There were many clouds in the sky, but they weren’t rain clouds, merely serving to darken the day a bit.

They sat at the table, their drinks in front of them (imported beer for Gwaine, some gin and tonic for Merlin) and for the first time since the prince had walked into his office he felt really comfortable. It was easy to pour his heart out to Gwaine; although they hadn’t personally met for years, they had mostly kept in touch by emails or random phone-calls. It still hurt to talk about his wife’s death, but it was a duller pain now, unlike the tide that seemed ready to drown him before Enmyria’s own hurt had brought him back to the present.

In a weird and funny way, Morgana had liked Gwaine a lot, even though she had felt some jealousy towards her husband’s previous fling. He had liked her too – they would tease and taunt each other easily; in a way she didn’t allow most people to. Maybe she had known more about him than she let on – Morgana often did – or maybe they had just felt comfortable with each other. Gwaine had been close to them in the early days of their relationship; he had also always been the one to encourage Lance to go for Gwen; but after his father’s death, around the time of Mordred’s birth, they had fallen from being close friends to distant acquaintances – or so Merlin had thought before the man managed to make him pour his heart out.

“Enough about me” Merlin finally said, shaking his head and taking a gulp from the freshly poured glass in front of him. “What I _really_ want to talk about is… Why on _Earth_ none of us ever knew you were a freaking Duke-to-Be?”

Gwaine let out a low chuckle, serving himself from his beer.

“You didn’t know… because I wasn’t” he said, winking. “As you recall, my father had disowned me…”

“You never said you had a Duke for a father either!” Merlin cut in, exasperated.

“My father was a wanker and an entitled bastard” pointed out Gwaine. “But he wasn’t a duke either – the title came from my mother’s side, and _she_ wasn’t exactly welcome in the family after choosing my father as a husband.”

“So…?” Merlin nagged, still curious.

“So my father died, and they decided that she had been punished enough” the man shrugged. “My uncle was the duke of Orkney then, and since he had no children, I became the heir to the title – not that I wanted it. I honestly just accepted it to frustrate my harridan of a sister – she was counting on me to decline it, so it would make _her_ the heir – and we couldn’t have that, could we?”

Gwaine laughed and Merlin couldn’t help but smile as well. Gwaine and his sister, Clarissa, had always had a very unhealthy sibling rivalry. Still, he couldn’t blame his friend for it – he had met the woman once, and she was so overbearing and arrogant that she made Morgause seem like a flower of courtesy – and her husband, Balin, was even worse.

“I’m sure you’re doing the realm a great service in keeping them away” agreed Merlin with a smile. The two of them shared a friendly look and finished up their drinks. Gwaine wasted no time in coming back inside the kitchen and getting them refills. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“For starters” teased Gwaine, and while when they had met earlier the very vision of Gwaine had seemed to awaken feelings in him that had been asleep for years; now he couldn’t help but remember just _why_ it hadn’t worked and just _why_ they had decided to be just friends. He smiled, softly, and was rewarded by a manly pat on the shoulder. “Now, tell me how you managed to find out that Morgana’s little girl was a royal bastard.”

Merlin spluttered and choked on his drink, and the other man had to thump his back to help him breathe again.

“You knew?” he asked, shocked beyond words.

“I have eyes” Gwaine replied, evenly. “I mean, have you _looked_ at her? She’s the perfect mixture between them – but, no, I didn’t _know_. I was just teasing you; but it seems that I have hit right on it, yeah?”

“Keep your voice down” Merlin pleaded, and Gwaine frowned.

“What? The princess is making you keep it as a dirty little secret?” he inquired angrily. “Because if he is, I’ll have some choice words to tell him!”

It took a moment for Merlin’s brain to catch up on what Gwaine meant, and he shook his head.

“They have never met” he confided, his voice low. “We didn’t even know until earlier this week – Arthur invited us to come so he can meet her after the Show.”

“Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his eyebrow raised and a smile on his face.

“The Prince of Wales, of course” Merlin added, wondering if the alcohol was making his friend slow in the head.

“I _know_ who Arthur is” he countered, with a grin. “I just didn’t know you were so… close to the _princess_.”

Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows, teasingly, and Merlin felt himself blush.

“Oh, shut up, Gwaine” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s not like that and you know it – he’s _the prince_ and I barely know him.”

“Aham” the man continued to smile with the infuriating way that he had. “Yet.”

“For god’s sake!” Merlin replied, moving to show his exasperation with his hands. “He has two children – three, actually, since there’s… _her_ – and he's married. He’s as straight as they come!”

“Please! Have you seen him?” Gwaine asked, and Merlin just shook his head, giving up – Gwaine just didn’t believe heterosexuality was an option. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean you’re not interested.”

Merlin fidgeted on his sit, uncomfortable with the very subject.

“I’m a widower” he reminded his friend.

“But you’re not dead yourself” countered Gwaine, his eyes filled with pity. “Please try to remember it, Merlin.”

“I know” he whispered back, sadly. “It’s just… It’s too soon” he pleaded and Gwaine gave him a smile that was filled with sadness.

“As you wish, my friend” he answered, standing up. “Now, I think we’ve been away for too long – it’s time to go and meet our hosts.”

Gwaine stood up, and Merlin followed, surprised to find out that his head was still clear even after the early drinking. They went back the way they had come, but this time, instead of getting them drinks, Gwaine picked up food and plied Merlin with it. They walked out, and it took them only a few moments to realize they had missed the first few races.

“Damn, I’ll have to check if I won any of the bets” Gwaine said, his smile wide. “Did you bet?”

“No?” Merlin said, looking at him as if he was a lunatic. “I don’t know the first thing about horses.”

“Nor do I” pointed out Gwaine with a mischievous grin. “Come on, then, I better take you to the Princess and company.”

Gwaine steered him towards the royal party, and Merlin saw them clearly for the first time on that day. Arthur stood stiffly beside his wife, dressed in a dark blue suit, just a shade darker than Merlin’s own. Princess Vivian was wearing a lavender dress whose sleeves were see-through with flowers embroiders in gold. Her hat was a complex affair made of layers of translucent fabric with the same flowers that were on her dress. On someone else, the combination might have looked too much for a day event, but she managed to make it work – to make it compliment her appearance against all odds.

Her oldest child was also sporting lavender and flowers – a couple on her headdress, that kept her honey-colored locks pulled up in an elegant knot – and one on the waist of her still childish dress, in spite of the first signs of curves that graced her figure. Princess Sophia seemed on be intent on making Mordred talk, although the boy seemed more bewildered at her chatter than anything else. Princess Elena was still in her riding clothes and her eyes were on the track, watching the race and clearly trying to make Enmyria understand how it all worked under Leon’s proud smile.

On most days, it was Enmyria who stood as the cuckoo in the nest when the children were gathered, her golden hair standing out contrasting the rest of them; but today Mordred was the one off, the dark head in a golden crowd. When his son’s eyes met his, Merlin wished they could just vanish and not be forced to see how they could never fit in.

Still, Gwaine seemed to be blind to his inner turmoil – or just didn’t see the point in wasting time when there was no way out of it – so they kept walking. Too soon, they were in front of them. Arthur was the first to take notice of them; he took his time observing Gwaine’s hand on the small of Merlin’s back, the insolent grin on the duke’s face, and he stared so firmly at Merlin’s neck that he involuntarily raised his hand to his collar, only to find it had gone a bit askew. The prince raised an eyebrow in a silent question that couldn’t be mistaken, and Merlin couldn’t fight the color spreading on his cheeks even if he did elbow Gwaine when his grin turned smug.

“Hello, Princesses” the duke greeted, cheerily.

The sound of his voice made Vivian turn to them – her eyes ran over Merlin’s whole body before she clearly dismissed him and merely made Gwaine the smallest of curtsies, turning back to the race.

“Your highnesses” Merlin said, with what he hopped was the appropriated bow.

“I see you have finally saw fit to bring Merlin back” Arthur said, looking at Gwaine. “I hope you have found your reunion to be… fruitful.”

“Very” replied Gwaine, grinning widely, much to Merlin’s embarrassment. It was _just_ what he needed, for the Prince of Wales to think that he had wild gay sex on the first time he was ever invited to a royal function.

“It’s not…” he started, but Arthur’s look was enough to silence him. “I am sorry for the delay.”

Arthur nodded, and Gwaine seemed to be done with his teasing.

“I’m going to ask Leon about our bets” he said, taking off and leaving Merlin without knowing what he should do or say. He had never spoken to the prince in public before.

The other man used the opportunity to turn towards his wife, but before he had the chance to escape as well, Arthur interrupted him.

“My lady” he said, gripping Merlin’s arm. “I believe you haven’t been properly introduced,”  The woman turned towards them, a small frown marring her features, and seemed supremely unimpressed with either. “This is Merlin Emrys, Mordred’s father”.

From the emphasis on his son’s name, he gathered that the princess had already been informed of Enmyria’s true parentage and either she was too much of a royal to show her feelings or just didn’t care at all. She observed him once again, in a completely different way than the first time, her eyes never stopping but still clearly capturing every single detail about him.

“So, you’re Morgana’s former husband” she said, her voice even – but clearly not enough to hide the steel underneath it. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all, and the Prince glared at her, but Merlin only stammered some words of thanks before she continued. 

“And such beautiful children that you had” she gave him a feral smile. “How many are they? Five? Six?”

“Three” he said, moving his weight from one foot to the other.

“Plus the two older girls and your grandchild, that makes six” Vivian added, knowingly. “Although you’re looking fine for a grandfather, I should say” her voice was sweet, as if it undid the poison of her words. “Then again, most grandfathers are much older than you – how old are you again? Forty?”

“Thirty-seven” he let through his teeth, trying to keep his head clear.

“Viv!” interrupted Arthur, and there was a clear threat in his tone, but she ignored it.

“What, _dearest_?” she blinked prettily at him. “I’m making a compliment!”

“It’s alright” Merlin said supremely uncomfortable to be caught in the crossfire. “And thank you, your highness.”

“How old is your oldest again?” Vivian went on, ignoring Arthur’s dark looks.

“Kara is eighteen” Merlin replied, wondering what sort of backhanded compliment she was about to grant him now.

“So you too found love in an early age” she pouted for a bit. “It’s a pity that in your case it wasn’t really The One, but I’m sure that Morgana wouldn’t have minded sharing.”

“I think you should attend to your father” Arthur cut through their conversation bluntly. “He seems to be on a losing streak today, and I am sure he would love to have your support through it.”

Princess Vivian’s face showed nothing but contempt for her husband for a split of a second, before her public mask was back in place and she excused herself, walking towards her father. Arthur was clearly relieved by it, even if it was only visible in the way his back relaxed a bit.

“I’m sorry about that” he confided, looking rather forlorn. “I’m afraid we aren’t her favorite people in the world right now.” Merlin thought this was the understatement of the year, but there was little he could say that would be appropriate, so he just nodded as if he understood, and for a moment he was the same vulnerable man he had been during the funeral and then again in his office, but it was gone as suddenly as it came, as the sun hiding again after peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. “Although I am sure I can count on Gwaine to, ummm, sooth whatever wounds she may have inflicted on you.”

He would never understand these royals.

<hr></hr>

Finding herself alone with the country’s heir apparent in a private sitting room in Clarence House seemed like the cherry on the top of one of the weirdest days in Enmyria’s life. It all had been more than a bit anticlimactic, if she were to be honest. In her mind, she had always pictured that when he first faced her, her faceless father would break down in tears and ask her if he could have a hug, that she’d gracefully concede even knowing that they were still strangers.

Real life couldn’t possibly be further away from that.

It was true that Arthur _had_ given her an open and rather soft smile when Leon brought her and Mordred up to meet the royal family, but there had been no sign of crying. He hadn’t asked for a hug, but held her hand warmly and lowered himself to kiss it as if she was a high lady in a fairy-tale. Indeed, Princess Vivian’s reaction had been quite appropriate to the stories, for even as she smiled and said pleasantries, it was clear that she wanted nothing more than skinning Enmyria alive.

The girls had been a weird mixture – she could see how both of them looked a bit like their parents, but they were as different as they could be, even more so than her own siblings and herself (and, for a moment, she had to remind herself that those girls, too, were her siblings). Sophia was girly, soft spoken, but undeniably Vivian’s creation – from her clothes to her looks of mistrust. Em could fully comprehend, in some detached way, that it was her position that she wanted to protect, not her place in her father’s heart. She had spoken to Enmyria as little as possible, although, by what she had seen, the girl had had no such qualms when speaking to Mordred. Em wished to tell her that she wanted no part of being a full-time Princess, and, right now, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to bid for a space in their father’s heart, as he sat there, watching her silently.

Elena had been something else entirely. The girl was just a bit older than Tristan, and still very much a child. She didn’t have the same position that her sister, and nothing to guard so dearly, so she had been open and eager with her affections in a way that none of the others were. She had taken time to explain every little detail of each of the different parts of the Show, and even asked for Enmyria’s approval of her presentation earlier in the program. Elena was sweet and open, more like a regular child than any of the others around, not overtly conscious of her privilege and not at all arrogant. She had even hugged her when they parted, whispering “sister” in her ear, which had touched Em deeply. At least _someone_ seemed to accept her.

Too aware of the terrible silence that kept on stretching, Em started to play with a lock of her hair, which had been falling on her face. Arthur cleared his throat just then, and she looked up to see him tight lipped, his hands grabbing the edge of his seat.

“You have my hair” he said, finally, and Em could only raise an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of her grandfather’s manners.

As far as conversations starters go, it was a terrible one.

“Yes” she answered, unsure of what else she could possibly say.

“And my mother’s mouth, it seems” he smiled at her, sadly. “From what I can see – in the pictures, that is, not in you, I can see you perfectly.”

Em couldn’t help but laugh, it seemed very un-princely like to blabber that way.

“You’re speaking just like da-Merlin does when he’s nervous.”

Arthur flinched, and cast his eyes down. She felt guilty – she should have been more careful.

“Maybe it’s contagious” he muttered, finally, and she smiled at him.

“I think it might be, I do the same when I don’t know what to say. My mother used to say I copied all of their worst habits.”

He raised his head again, looking at her from under his eyelashes before speaking.

“There’s a lot of her in you – Morgana. The way you smile, and your eyes… But my hair and my mother’s mouth… Did you know Leon suspected as soon as he saw you?”

The girl shook her head, although it made sense in some way.

“And now it seems that Gwaine has guessed too – You are the worst kept secret in the history of royalty.”

“Did you know?” she asked, feeling bolder. “Didn’t you think… I mean… It must have been about the right time to…”

The prince denied with a head gesture, gravely.

“I never knew – if I _had_ known, of course I wouldn’t have kept you out of my life!” he seemed a bit outraged that one might think he’d do such thing, and Em just raised her eyebrow again. “I would have married your mother, I would have done everything properly.”

“I can’t see my mother wanting to get married for duty” Em shot back, bothered by how he didn’t seem to even consider the possibility of her mother saying no.

Arthur did smile then, soft and warm as he had when they had been introduced, but there was also a touch of longing in it.

“No, she wouldn’t” he agreed, with a small nod. “But I would have wanted to, not just because of an unplanned pregnancy, but because I _loved_ her. She was my best friend, the one woman I knew I could always trust. It may not be the passion most fairy-tales are built on, but it was steady and probably a better ground for a marriage then most romances.”

The admission surprised her, and she wanted fiercely to disagree, to claim that there was nothing more important than being in love to get married… But although she was still young, she had seen often enough how strong feelings didn’t always make the best partnerships; and she guessed that when it was a Job as much (or even more) than a Personal Quest for Happiness, it would be better to have the solid foundation of a friendship.

For a moment, she wondered how her life would have been if her parents had, indeed, married – how it would have been to grow up with so many pressures over her, and it didn’t sound as the kind of idyllic life that books tried to make it.

“I fear your mother didn’t think it was enough” her newly found father went on after a moment. “For her, I mean. She wanted more. I, myself, always thought she would have been by best chance. Morgana… She made me better.”

Could it be that through all those years, he had still loved her and cherished her in his heart? But it if were so, how could he not have searched for her – for them – during all those years? Arthur continued as if he could hear her thoughts.

“I was never good enough for her, and she grew to despise me for it – we fought before she left, and she made it very clear, to me and to others, that she never wanted to hear from me again. I think now – at least I _like_ to think – that she had been coming to tell me about you, if only I hadn’t been such an idiot” he smiled at her, his hand moving and stopping mid-way. “So I knew nothing, and I heard nothing. I knew she had left the country, and, eventually, I learned that she had come back and married, but I never thought to look for her – not because I didn’t want to apologize or because I didn’t think she was worth it – but because I knew better than to test her anger.”

The man chuckled low, and Enmyria could smile alongside. Her mother’s humors had been terrible and dreadful to anyone that hadn’t been forced to live with them on a daily basis.

“I wish I had” Arthur whispered, looking right at her, and it sounded like a prayer. “I wish I had known, I wish I had looked for her, I wish I had found you, I wish I hadn’t missed so much…” His eyes were wide and clear for the first time, he was there, opening up his heart in a way that clearly was hard on him – and, of course, it made it hard to witness. “You’re almost a grown woman, and I… I don’t even know where to start, Enmyria. I don’t know if I should apologize, or what I should offer… I just don’t know.”

And, as simple as that, her heart was truly, honestly, finally open to him as he was – her lost father, the crown prince, the future ruler and not used to showing how he felt. Remembering Elena’s simple comfort, she rose in a fluid movement and set herself by his feet, capturing his hand under his shocked gaze.

“Say whatever is in your heart,” Enmyria told him, her voice thick with emotion as she emphasized the final word “father”.

<hr> </hr>

Not for the first time in his life, Merlin wondered how some people managed to patiently wait for things to happen without having any idea of what change it might bring. It had been hours since Enmyria and Arthur had been left alone in his sitting room, and while his back ached and his body complained, he couldn’t do as Leon had suggested and go home to rest. For everything that had been said, he didn’t know them well enough to trust her safety to them; not to mention that he wanted to be close by in case anything went wrong.

Mordred had gone, though, thrilled to have the house all to himself (or almost so, for it had been Will that had agreed to go keep him company; Merlin had to wonder whether there would be any sort of home to come back to). During the first couple of hours, Leon had kept him company while dictating the last of Princess Vivian’s security details for her trip to Balmoral. Merlin had asked him about it, surprised that she’d leave London during the Season – even more so alone – but the man had gave him a stern look that reminded him that they were almost strangers.

Neither of the girls made an appearance while he waited, alone with one of the security guards – Pell, they called him – and time seemed to stretch to infinity at every minute.

Finally, the door opened, and he saw the two of them together for the first time and could fully understand where Gwaine and Leon’s deductions had come from. They didn’t look at each other as Arthur walked to the guard and spoke to him politely.

“Pell, please escort Ms. LeFay to the children’s chambers. She would like to speak to them” as the man seemed ready to protest, he went on. “I’ll be here with Mr. Emrys. You might send someone to stand in your place when you’re on your way.”

The guard simply nodded, seeming to think there was no point in arguing. He offered Em a gentle smile, and the girl gave her step-father a fierce smile before leaving with him. The prince, on the other hand, cleared his throat and gestured Merlin inside.

He walked in, too tired to notice how imposing each piece of furniture was, and turned back to the other man as soon as he heard the door close.

“How was it?” he asked, filled with anxiety.

Arthur’s whole face changed under his gaze, growing soft and he gave Merlin a small grin that somehow felt more honest than the perfect smile he’d sport when in public.

“It was…” he seemed at a loss for words, moving from one side of the room to the other. “Good. Better than I expected I guess” he turned to look at Merlin, seeming a bit star-struck. “She’s… rather remarkable.”

The other man had very little idea of how to interpret his words, and something in his unassuming manners made him feel bold enough to question.

“How are you, then?”

“Optimistic” replied the prince, taking the question as to be about him rather than about both of them and their relationship. “Proud. Deeply in debt to you and Morgana, it seems. Hopeful that she’ll prove to be a good influence to Sophia, god knows that she’ll need it, and to Elena, of course.”

“So, I take it that this means that she decided that she wants to stay in touch” Merlin said, feeling a certain sense of loss over it. It wasn’t and it had never been a competition, but he couldn’t help feeling that he had been bested.

“Yes” Arthur said, oblivious to his feelings. “I’m planning full disclosure soon – but I shall need to talk to Annis about it first. I wanted her to move to her own apartment, near St. James Palace” Merlin started to voice a protest, but Arthur held up a hand, silencing him before he could speak “but she refuses to leave your house.”

It was a small and petty thing, but it made him feel a whole lot better. It must have shone clearly through his expression, because it made Arthur eager to explain himself.

“Not that I don’t think there’s much to be gained from a family environment, or that I don’t trust you to care for her – which you’ve done admirably so far – but, once the truth about her comes out, it _will_ be rather hard to deal with the press and security issues that may arise.”

“Press?” moaned Merlin, suddenly imagining paparazzi destroying the flowerbeds Morgana had struggled to plant. “Do you really think they’ll be around?”

“Of course they will, _Mer_ lin” scoffed the prince, looking at him as if he was soft in the head. “I’m not going to hide Enmyria as if she was a dirty little secret – since she agrees to it, it is my intention to fully recognize her as my daughter!”

“And what does your wife think of it?” he asked, wondering just how deeply into Princess Vivian’s black list they were about to get.

“She won’t be my wife for much longer” Arthur dismissed his worry with a move, as if he was trying to send a fly away. “And we’ve reached a… _compromise_ , of sorts – Sophia remains as my first true-born child and heir; followed by Elena, so there’s really little she can object to and even less she can do.”

Merlin disagreed with it, personally, but he knew it would be pointless to raise the subject.

“But I will need your help” the prince said, looking straight at him, and it made his magic sing in his veins to be under his powerfully compelling gaze. “Enmyria has made it very clear that she wants to stay with you, and I _do_ believe it would be best for all if the situation didn’t change so abruptly. There will be enough to deal with even if we go slow, and I’ll need your cooperation at every step of the way – can I count on you?”

It was a straightforward question, but incredibly heavy. They hardly knew each other, and it seemed like a too trusting thing to do, especially for such a public figure, that should be always worrying about possible betrayals.

“Why do you think I can help?” he asked, his voice suddenly small. “Why do you think I _can_ do anything?

“You love her and want what’s best for her” Arthur replied, simply.

“Aren’t you worried that I might want to keep her from you or poison her against you?”

Arthur just smiled at him, shaking his head a bit.

“You came and asked a stranger for help because you wanted to give her what she needed – what she wished for. You fought to find her father – me, that is – even knowing that Morgana would disapprove of your actions…”

“… How do you...” Merlin started, but Arthur just raised his eyebrows at him.

“Gaius” he said, simply. “I’ve talked to him before even going to your office, and he’s told me enough about it for me to know that you did it out of love, selflessly. So, no, I don’t worry about those things. I might not know you yet, but I’m sure I can trust you when it comes to… my daughter.”

There was an undeniable hint of adoration in the way he said it, and Merlin was both shocked that Enmyria had managed to win him over so completely in such a little time (but maybe it was part of her charm, one that she had clearly inherited from her father and that he probably had never suffered the true power of before) and grateful that this man wasn’t about to inflict another loss on him.

“You can always count on me” he said, finally, and it was true – somehow, he knew that if Arthur requested his help with anything else, his answer would be the same. It was part of his magic, the way he conquered people’s loyalty effortless.

“And you on me. We will be partners” the prince replied, with an open smile.

And, just like that, Merlin knew his life would never be the same.

 


	13. New Frames - Are Scary Things (14 weeks P.M.D)

Enmyria’s next meeting with her father was somewhat easier, but still strange to no ends. They had set up the date before leaving the last time around, and it had been somewhat difficult to find an appropriate time for all of them to get together – and no less formal, since they were to have a meeting with Annis about Enmyria’s situation until a proper announcement was made.

The idea of her story becoming public sent shivers through Em’s whole body, but there was no way to keep it a secret if she intended to maintain something of a relationship with her father – well, not without doing _much_ more damage to their reputation than the truth would.

It was quite late for her to be out on a week-night – past dinnertime, but it had been their only option. Gwen and Lance had stayed back with the kids, as Merlin drove with her to Kensington Palace once again.

They had been instructed to drive to a secondary entrance, and the security personnel checked their ID’s before letting them in, all while streaming coordinates about their moves to each other. They moved like a well-oiled machine, for there was a man ready to park their car as they reached the Palace, and another one who opened up Enmyria’s door and escorted them inside, where Leon was waiting.

Leon, of course, was as warm as ever, greeting them and inquiring if they had had dinner, before informing them that Prince Arthur was overlooking some of the Princesses works before coming down – but as he arrived, there was no sign of the two girls. He smiled as he saw them, but as he came close enough to greet, he seemed unsure of how he should treat her – he had moved closer and then back again, his back had stiffen as he offered her his hand all while Enmyria thought this was _not_ how you greeted your own child even though she also couldn’t picture herself just hugging him either. In the end, she gave him her hand, and instead of shaking it, he had taken it to his lips, just as he had done the first time they met, and then gave it a hearty pat after the kiss.

Although Enmyria was used to much more warmth, she had to admit it was rather charming.

There had been no such hesitation as he moved on to greet her step-father; just a fluid movement that led to a hand-shake and a nod that were accompanied of a pleased smile. It felt extremely unfair that he felt much more at ease with Merlin than with her, but, then again, between their complicated bonds and the age gap, it was probably to be expected.

Together, they walked inside the room that served as Annis’ office, although it didn’t look much like a proper office as far as Enmryia was concerned. Right, there was a desk, and some chairs, but also a profusion of love-seats and arm-chairs, side tables with vases and lamps, and a plasma TV that looked completely out of place against the antique decorations and heavy curtains.

Annis, herself, cut a very impressive figure, walking firmly towards them on stiletto heels and wearing a custom-made woman-suit. The golden pin-stripes of the fabric matched the color of her hair, while contrasting with the dark green blouse underneath – and all of it matched perfectly well with her gold-and-pearl earrings. Em found her look competent and elegant all at once.

“Your Highness” she said, her voice calm but not warm as Leon’s was. “Mr. Emrys, Ms. LeFay” she nodded at each of them in turn, before gesturing them to one of the arm-chairs and sofas sets. She took the sofa for herself and her many gadgets, while Em found herself sitting in one of the chairs between the two man – it made her feel like a little girl once again, waiting to be told off by an authority figure.

It didn’t help that both her father and her dad seemed as nervous as she was.

“Let me say, Enmyria, that we’re all delighted that you’ve chosen to pursue your relationship with your father” the woman stated, with a smile. “All of us are confident that you’re going to make us proud.”

There is nothing worse than hearing something like that from someone like Annis – instead of making one feel comforted and confident, it just makes one feel anxious and unable to fill the shoes that are being presented. Em was no exception to it.

“You already do”, added Arthur, turning to her with a small, private smile. “Try not to scare her and make her run away, Annis, she’s not Sophia.”

“Of course not” Annis replied, briskly. “Now, first things first, I hope that you’ll understand that in order to guarantee the best possible outcome in all the challenging situations that lie ahead, I think your education needs to be… ah, complemented.” She shared a look with the prince, who nodded for her to go on. “The first and most important  are Etiquette lessons.”

“Am I having Princess Lessons?” Enmryia groaned. “My life becomes more and more like The Princess Diaries.”

Annis smiled at it, and Merlin shook with laugher by her side, but Arthur looked somewhat puzzled.

“I think you’ll find that your teacher is far more pleasant than Julie Andrew’s character” she sounded softer, somehow. “And also that learning the appropriate behavior to each situation will make you feel more comfortable and at home whenever you’re in an event.”

There was nothing to do but nod at this – as if she didn’t have enough to learn with school, already. Still, there was no way out of those lessons, and she kind of already expected that.

“Now, afterwards, it would be a good idea to consider transferring to a Public School – I would suggest Westminster School, as it grants you the opportunity to stay in London, of course – but there are other options if…”

“I don’t want to change schools!” Enmyria cut in, annoyed. “I mean… It’s not the best place in the world, but I like it.”

Annis raised her eyebrow, as if she was about to object, but the prince gestured her to be silent, and turned towards his daughter himself.

“Now, Em, I can understand that – I’ve always wanted to keep as much of a normal life as possible – but have you _really_ thought this through? I could say it would be better for your education, that it is a wonderful school, and a number of other things, but I’m not even going there. I just want you to picture it: how will the reaction to your parentage be in your school?” he looked straight at her, urging her on. “They may accept it and turn you into the School Queen or whatever…”

“… You do know that my school may not be as posh as yours, but it is still in England, right? Not America” Em said, frowning, and her father let out a small laugh and looked over her to Merlin for a split of a second.

“Right. I mean, they may be extremely welcoming – or they may choose to have you for a liar and your mother for a…”

“Whore” interceded Merlin, crudely. “There will be people that will say your mother was a whore and a WAG, and many other things; there will be people who will be jealous, there will be many who will be vicious and also some that will be nice hoping to get something out of you.” He seemed rather disgusted about the whole thing, but there was no denying it.

“All my friends are there!” she cried out, feeling torn. “I don’t…”

“Those who are truly your friends will still be so if you change schools” reasoned Merlin. “It’s not like… There are just two years left and you’d be scattered around anyway, you’d have to learn to deal with distant friendship or let them die – you’ll just start it a bit sooner.”

“More that that” continued Arthur, as if they had planned the whole conversation (and, perhaps, they had). “There will be media – paparazzi and yellow press reporters, there will be curious people that just want to catch a glimpse of you, and so on. Do you think your current school can handle it – can handle _them_? Do you think it’s fair to ask your teachers and colleagues to deal with that?”

She felt the power of their argument, and while there was enough truth in it, she still didn’t want her whole life to change.

“Of course, we have a full security plan for you” Annis added, smoothly. “And we also plan to deal with the press to try and let you live as normally as possible with regular official updates, but I doubt that will stop them, at least early on.”

“Can this wait?” she pleaded, her voice pleading. “Can we… wait and see how it will be? I mean… We’re making it public before the summer break, yeah?”

“That is the plan” Annis agreed, watching her.

“So… I’ll have some time to see how it will work before the term ends – and then, then we’ll talk about changing schools and which schools and _why_.”

“Very well” smoothed Annis. “Now, about your security detail: we have to implement it _now_ , it can’t wait until it’s made public. If somehow the news leak, you’ll be in danger without some basic protection.”

“I’m not having a bodyguard staying at school with me” objected Em, annoyed. “That will just make everyone notice something is up more than anything!”

Annis chuckled at her, which made Enmyria feel somewhat angry, but before she could say something she regretted, the woman interrupted.

“No, I wasn’t thinking in terms of waiting _inside_ for you” she agreed, smoothly. “Just someone to drive you from home to school, and back – someone who will be on their guard outside while you’re inside and so on. It’s a precaution.”

“And how am I going to explain some random black-suited man coming for me every day?” she asked, puzzled.

“With your step-sister’s cooperation” Annis turned towards Merlin. “Can we count on her for it?”

“Maybe” he said, non-committally. “What do you have in mind?”

Annis took a deep breath, preparing herself before exposing her plan.

“I was hoping we could use some of the younger man in our service” she said, looking at Arthur and Merlin rather than at the interested part. “And not on rotation either, but the same one working day in, day out – it would be better, especially if you can spare him some quarters. If someone gets suspicious – either one of your friends” her eyes flickered at Em before turning back to the men “or the press, we can say he’s your daughter’s boyfriend – Kara, isn’t it?”

Merlin nodded, looking thoughtful, and Arthur smiled.

“This could work – it’s brilliant, Annis.”

The woman clearly basked in the praise, but before she could say anything else, her step-father interrupted it.

“Not Owain.”

“What?” Annis said, looking puzzled.

“Why?” Arthur completed, equally confused, but it was to Em that he answered.

“He’s too pretty and too charming by far – and you _don’t_ fool me with your blushing.”

“Dad!” she groaned, exasperated, blushing hard. Damn, Merlin could be sharp when he wanted to.

“Not Owain at all” agreed Arthur, eagerly. “Can we send him to Balmoral to escort Vivian?”

“Oh God” Em groaned, while Annis smiled, clearly amused. “This is _the worst_. I mean… What happened to my life? Now I have _two dads_ trying to protect my ‘virtue’.”

The comment made her father blush in turn, while her step-father seemed somewhat amused, even if there was also some coloring in his cheeks. She _so_ was going to tease him about it later.

“What about Percival?” the prince asked, turning from Annis to Merlin. “You’ve met him, and you know he’s a decent bloke – and he’s still young enough – does that work for you?”

“It’s a good option” he agreed, considering for a moment. “I don’t have any spare rooms, though – even Kara shares Em’s bedroom when she sleeps over; but there _is_ a sofa-bed in the living room and another one in the office… If he doesn’t mind, I wouldn’t have a problem with it either.”

“He would just stay over in case there was any trouble brewing” assured Annis, looking at them. “Otherwise, he would go off duty at 10 PM. Does everyone agree?”

The two men nodded and Em shrugged. Arthur gave a small tap at the arm-chair.

“Right. That’s settled then – I’ll speak to Percy myself when he arrives tomorrow morning.”

“Wait on a minute” Em piped up, frowning. “Is Percival Percy? I mean… Tall, muscular, shaved head…?” she asked.

“I didn’t realize you had met him” the prince seemed a bit confused. “He was off-duty on Saturday.”

“I haven’t” she agreed “Kara told me – damn, this is _so_ unfair! I get told off for blushing and Kara gets her crush to be around _all the time_!”

Merlin spluttered, Annis indeed laughed out loud and Arthur frowned, shaking his head before turning to her step father.

“I’ll have a _serious_ talk with him tomorrow morning” he reassured the man.

“So we’re keeping Percy?” Em questioned, putting her hands on her hips and turning to Merlin. “This is _not fair_!”

Merlin shook his head and shrugged all at once.

“Do you remember when we saw Juno?” he asked her, and as she nodded, he went on. “It is as she says on the film – Kara has already gotten pregnant at fifteen, what worse kind of shenanigans can she get into?”

It made her father laugh, and her step-father raised his eyes to meet his with a smile. Em just rolled her eyes, still bothered.

“So she gets rewarded for teen pregnancy?”

“No, she gets more office hours” he replied, with a smile. “I’m not taking any chances.”

And as her father’s laughter filled the air once again, accompanied by Merlin’s smile, Em felt that the whole ‘Princess Diaries’ thing in her life might not turn out so bad.

* * *

 

The morning of the inquiry over Morgana’s death was filled with sun and warmth, as if the weather itself had decided to mock Merlin’s grief. The kids had been sent to school against their wishes, all while Enmyria complained that she was old enough to be there, and so did Mordred – Tristan pouted but accepted it and Freya just wished him luck. Percival had been instrumental in making them do as they should, with his sparse kind words and reassurances that he’d take them both up to the court if it was still happening when they finished their classes. Merlin honestly hoped they wouldn’t be.

He took his time to dress, fighting against the flood of memories that never seemed far away when he was by himself. Lance and Gwen came by to pick him up an hour before the appointed time, Will riding along with them. Gaius, Alice, Morgause and Cendred met then in court, their clothes dark and their faces as grim as his. It was the first he saw of his sister-in-law since the incident in his garden, but she seemed to have gotten over it.

Kara and Mithian were also there to offer their support with warm hugs and offers of cappuccinos. Surprisingly, Leon was there too, although he called as little attention for himself as possible, not mingling with the rest of them, just speaking quietly to Gaius after kissing Alice’s cheek, patting Merlin on the back and nodding towards Morgause and Cendred. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he had known them all for decades, even if he hadn’t been close.

When they were called in, Merlin felt sick to his stomach having to sit there and listen while the man responsible for pleading the police’s side claimed that the sirens were on and so were the lights, that Morgana had been riding over the speed limit and that motorcycles were known not to be as secure as cars. Cendred’s colleague who was handling his case, Kanen, had a distinctly unpleasant look about him, but used it in his favor as he argued and stated that the police had been at full fault and that they should be punished for forfeiting a life.

Following a whisper from Cendred, Kanen rose and asked for them to check the images from the police car camera to assess if the lights and siren had been turned on in time to avoid the collision, which was granted by the judge. There was something about the woman, fierce and honest, that reminded him of Annis, but the stranger had none of her softer, humorous edge.

Time had no meaning then – he could barely hear as she asked for people to clear the room, leaving only those who were directly involved with the case to watch the scenes. Merlin watched in silence as the recording showed the car accelerating and turning on the lights and sounds barely a second before hitting the rear half of Morgana’s motorcycle. He watched as her body flew up, half-flipping in the air before coming down, her head hitting the ground before the rest of her, compromising her neck. Time seemed to ground to a halt as he almost could hear her whisper again, pleading her love as she died…  Merlin closed his eyes, all his previous anger evaporating in the face of the painful reality of his loss.

He had pictured it differently – silly as he was – her curls spinning through the air, as she did a graceful summersault in the air, as if she were an acrobat presenting her art, before falling down too fast. But, of course, she had been wearing her helmet, there were no curls left out to grace her movements, and it had been too crude a movement to save her. Maybe she could have, if she wanted, if she thought of it – but no, her thoughts had been on the love she felt as she turned towards her death.

Cendred put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing it as they moved to watch the CCTV recording. It felt unfairly cruel that he had to see his future vanishing through so many angles. Still, the recording caught his attention.

Watching the crossing he knew so well, he shook his head and asked them to play it again. Once again he saw Morgana coming from the upper side of the hill, coming down to turn into the street leading towards the University, only to be hit by the car. It made no sense – their house, or even the school, were coming _up_ the hill, not down. Wherever she was coming from, wasn’t the place he had thought she was.

He barely heard when they spoke of the money, and Cendred guided him back to his place as they called people back in. He sat, unfeeling, as the judge gave her verdict, his mind scanning for places that might have led Morgana to be on the other side of the street, but coming with none. He felt some relief that it was over, some small amount of contentment about the money, but it was almost drowned by the questions in his head.

It seemed like Morgana’s secrets never ended.

* * *

 

Undoubtedly, one of the hardest things Arthur ever had to do in his life was walking up to his father to tell him that he had sired a child sixteen years before that he knew nothing about. Between the political complications and the sheer embarrassment that was to talk to one’s father about sexual escapades, it was one of the most charged and complicated conversations they had ever had.

Uther had been apoplexy about the whole matter – yelling and throwing things away, breaking valuables and cursing both Arthur and Morgana for their foolishness. It hadn’t made it any easier that when he asked about Vivian’s reaction to the news, Arthur had told him about their impending divorce.

“It’s one disaster after another!” he had yelled, enraged.

Then the king had cursed the media, the politics and the secret service for their incompetence in not having found out sooner. Enmyria was turning sixteen coming October, and it was an awfully long time for a secret to stand, which smelled of concealed information and people on the inside working against them – Uther had always been a fan of a good conspiracy theory.

Then he had berated Arthur again for not having warned him sooner about the possible complications of such an affair. After hearing his son’s explanation – a level reminder that it had happened shortly before the Alps Incident and that the whole drama had banished it from his mind – he had blamed magic for all of it.

It had made the hair on Arthur’s back stand up, but his father had taken no notice, raging about damned sorcerers and the bloody marks they had left on their family. It would have made little sense for anyone else, but the prince had long been privy to his father’s unshakable belief that the avalanche that had killed his older brother, Prince Aurelius, along with his two children – Amhar and Duran – had been caused by magic. Now he was positive that Arthur’s tryst with Morgana had been the result of inadvertently being exposed to some sort of love spell, that the pregnancy had been planned to undermine their family in public view.

The prince had risen and argued back, had spoken of Morgana’s character and her own sufferings, and refused to accept such a fancy notion as that his best friend had deliberately plotted against him. Uther finally calmed down somewhat, enough to concede that maybe Morgana hadn’t been directly involved, but had been a victim to someone else’s schemes. Arthur found that a completely insane idea, but he knew it was as far as he’d be able to convince his father. Uther’s rationality left whenever the idea of magic came to his mind.

“Promise me, Arthur, that this child will _never_ under _any circumstances_ be considered for the throne!” he ordered, his tone dark and foreboding.

After being reassured that his son only meant to claim the child, not to fight for her to be considered legitimate, the king had gotten his composure back and sat down to ask with something akin to a smile when he was going to meet his granddaughter.

There had been nothing he _could_ do to avoid or delay the encounter, for his father was ready to consider “nonsense” anything he might say against it. Part of him worried that his father might have one of his temper tantrums with the girl, while he tried to ease himself remembering that Uther could be polite and even charming when he wanted to, he had honed it over the many years in which he had needed to win a place in the heart of people, most of whom ignored him in favor of his older brother. Arthur could only hope he would find it to be an occasion to use this charm.

Still, he was filled with tension as Enmyria and Merlin arrived, as a bow string pulled to its limit. George had noticed his mood and stood away from them, attending to his business in silence, while Elyan stood impassively at his post as he paced in the grand hallway. Arthur tried to claim a semblance of normality, but if the looks both gave them as they came inside the room were any indication, he hadn’t been very successful.

“Good afternoon” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but even to himself his voice sounded empty and false.

“Hello” the girl spoke back, with a small smile. “How are the girls?”

“They’re doing well, thank you” Arthur replied, before noticing he was being a pompous ass. Trying to correct it, he moved on. “How was school?”

That made Em giggle, and even Merlin managed a faint smile.

“Well, the girls were all very taken with Percy” she confided, passing her arm through his. “I am sure that if it depends on them, you’ll be declared Father of The Year.” Ever conscious of herself, she turned towards Merlin and squeezed his hand. “Not that you’re not wonderful.”

It amazed him how natural it came to her, the easing of a potentially hurtful situation. She beamed at both of them before raising her eyebrow.

“So… Aren’t we going to meet the King?”

There was a teasing smirk on her face, and she tilted her head sideways, in a manner so similar to her mother that Arthur felt a moment of longing for his dead friend. He was sure it wasn’t just his impression, for Merlin’s face lost all traces humor, heartbreak spreading through it. For a split second, he was tempted to offer the man comfort, but he had no idea how to go about doing it, so he let the moment pass and just guided them towards the closed doors of his father’s office.

Thankfully, Uther seemed relaxed as they walked in. He offered them a small smile, and walked closer to meet them.

“Father” Arthur said, keeping his voice firm. “This is Enmyria.”

The girl gave him a full curtsey, but the king was feeling welcoming and raised her, holding her by her arms.

“Now, child, this is not the correct curtsey to offer considering your status” he said, but his voice was warm. “Also, there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just family.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty” Enmyria answered, her eyes lowered and her voice respectful, without any of the spunk she had sported minutes before.

The king studied her face as she looked up at him.

“You’re a very pretty young woman, Enmyria.”

“Thank you, sire” she said, but the compliment didn’t seem to affect her in any way.

“And you must be Mr. Emrys” Uther continued, moving on to shake Merlin’s hand. “May I offer you my condolences over your loss?”

“Thank you, sire” Merlin replied, his own voice filled with sadness.

“It’s terribly upsetting to lose a spouse” he went on, gesturing for them to sit. “The pain lessens with time, but the scar never truly heals. I still miss Ygraine every single day, even though she’s been gone for over thirty years” Arthur was surprised to hear his father speaking of the subject so openly, he had never heard him talking about his mother of his own volition. But, perhaps, he imagined that Merlin would understand it in a way that Arthur never could. “Thankfully, we can still find traces of those we lost to love in their offspring.”

The king’s smile encompassed both Arthur and Enmyria, and he felt as if he was a child again. Uther had never shown such happiness in his children, and he felt his throat close up with emotion, although it was on the girl that his eyes lingered.

“You have Ygraine’s lips, and the hair color that your father inherited from her” he went on, seeming half-lost in memory for a moment before returning to them. “And your mother’s beauty as well – she was a remarkable young woman, from what I recall.”

Enmyria returned his smile, softly.

“I miss her dearly” she said, while someone knocked and walked in with the tea.

“What about your grandfather?” he asked, before correcting himself with a smile. “I mean, your _other_ grandfather, Gaius. He was a good friend to me and to my family.”

Soon, Arthur’s worst fears begin to dissipate under his father’s genial disposition. The two of them spoke of Gaius and Alice, their most recent ventures, and Enmyria expanded on to talk of her siblings and her life in general under Uther’s proud eyes. Mostly, they ignored him and Merlin, and while Arthur was content to watch, hear and learn more about her; Merlin was silent and brooding all along.

It was, of course, a short visit – just tea – there would be no time in their schedules for more and Arthur also hadn’t thought it was a good idea to let them be together for long so early on, lest they started to clash over something trivial, but Enmyria was on her best behavior.

When time came for bidding his father goodbye, the old man kissed the girl on the cheek and said he looked forward to meeting her again. After patting Arthur on the back and shaking Merlin’s hand again, he left through one of the inner doors, leaving them to find their way out. George came to stand in front at the sight of them, with a list in hand, but Arthur waved him away, and he fell back to walk with Elyan and Percival. Enmyria chattered happily as they walked out, excited about going to her Etiquette class.

“How did you come here?” he finally asked Merlin, as she stopped to breath.

The man shrugged, distractedly.

“Percival gave me a lift from court.”

Arthur nodded, and soon they were outside, and Enmyria was leaning to kiss both of them goodbye and walk with Percival towards his car. Arthur turned to Merlin only to find him staring at unimaginable distances ahead, without moving to either side.

“Why don’t I drive you home?” he offered, somewhat worried.

“I’ll catch a cab” Merlin replied, shaking himself out of his daze. “No need to bother.”

“It’s no bother” Arthur said, grabbing his elbow. “Come, I’ll take you there – it’s time for me to see that famous house of yours.”

Merlin snorted and allowed himself to be maneuvered towards the car, but remained silent and aloof. With a gesture, Arthur made sure that George would ride with Elyan in the other car, giving him a much needed space.

For the longest while, they drove in silence, with a few directions or tips from Merlin. It was obvious to Arthur that something was deeply wrong with the man, and he hadn’t wanted to pry, but the change from his usual animated speech to the heavy silence was about to steal the very light of the day.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” he asked, finally, turning to look at the man as they stopped at a red light. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing – you’re acting weird.”

“Don’t you think it’s somewhat arrogant of you to say that?” the man answered, darkly. “You barely know me!”

Yet, for all it was true, it wasn’t how it felt to Arthur – it was almost as if they had always known each other. He could feel a dark hole in the other man’s soul, sucking happiness out of him as if it was a real thing.

“I _know_ something is up and I _know_ you’re being weird” he countered. “You’re silent, for starters, and you’re always babbling as much as Enmyria.”

“I don’t babble!”

“You do so – and I mean it. You babble so much you should be crowned Queen of Babble.”

“I’m not a girl” he spluttered, indignantly. “And I’m not a Meg Cabot novel either.”

“Who?” Arthur asked, frowning, and Merlin laughed a bit.

“You still have _much_ to learn about raising teenage girls” was his only reply.

“Well, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” answered Arthur, glad to have shaken him out of his gloomy state. “To give me all the answers so I can be named Father Of The Year.”

“I thought I was here for a ride” he said, with a smile.

“Come on, now, _Mer_ lin, tell me the secrets of raising teenage girls – just don’t ask me to watch teen romantic comedies. I think I haven’t gotten over ‘Clueless’ to this day!”

That made the other man laugh, and they shared a light smile over yet another red light, before Arthur turned serious again.

“Now, tell me – what happened to make you act as if you were Grumpy.”

Merlin’s face darkened immediately and Arthur feared that he had been a fool to press him to speak after having finally shaken him out of his mood. It took him a while but, eventually, he spoke.

“Before coming over to the Palace, I was at court” he started, testily.

Arthur nodded, remembering he had said so before.

“And?”

“It was the hearing of the compensation settlement for Morgana’s death” he continued, staring straight on. “It was fixed at half a million pounds”

“That’s a lot of money” replied Arthur, evenly, and Merlin snorted.

“Not for you.”

“Hey” Arthur interjected, huffily. “I _do_ know how much average British wages are!”

“Just not what it means in _reality_.”

There was nothing Arthur could reply to that, and it was not the point anyway.

“So, it was the inquiry that made you…” he left the sentence hanging in the air.

“Cendred asked for them to check the cameras – the CCTV and the police car camera to prove that they hadn’t turned on the lights or sounds until it was too late” Merlin’s voice was dead. “And I had to watch it.”

Arthur felt his stomach grown cold. He didn’t want to be in Merlin’s shoes, the very idea of it made him feel queasy.

“It must have been dreadful.”

The other man nodded, spacing out for a moment.

“Yes, but it was… it wasn’t the worse. I mean… It _was_ terrible, and painful and all of those things… But I can’t stop thinking…”

Merlin looked away, his jaw tight, and the silence stretched until Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.

“What, Merlin? What can’t you stop thinking?”

“She was going the wrong way” he said, finally. “I mean… Morgana said she’d go over the house before going to take the test, and I… But if she _were_ coming from home, she would have been on the other side of the street – she should have been going up until she turned on the intersection, but she was coming _down_ the other side, and they crashed into her as she turned the corner.”

Arthur was a bit confused about the whole speech, so he merely nodded.

“So she wasn’t coming from home” he added.

“Nor from the school, I mean… they’re on the same side. I can’t think of _any_ reason for her to be riding down the street – there was nowhere she might have been, or that we usually were that was there and I… I don’t know where she was” he turned, staring hard at Arthur. “My wife died because she said she would do one thing and did another. If she _had_ been coming from the other side – the normal side, the regular side, our _house_ side – she would have turned without getting hit by them. But she wasn’t – she was coming down the street for reasons unknown. I have no idea where she might have been, or why she went over that way… So now she’s dead, and I don’t know where she was before, what she was…” he shook his head, turning away. “Sometimes it seems that I’m losing track of who she was – or that I never really knew. There are just too many secrets – first it was you, and then you and Em, and now _this_ … I don’t know why she was coming from the wrong side of the street. I don’t know why she was riding so fast. I don’t know – and now she’s dead. There’s a part of me – a burning aching part – that wants to read all her diaries, to go through all her things, to ask everyone and anyone to see if I can find out. There’s a part of me that wants to unravel all those secrets and understand – but what if I _really_ don’t want to know? What if she was…” he sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never know – I’ll spend my life wondering.”

“It will drive you mad” Arthur looked at him from the corner of his eye to see Merlin closing in on himself. “Not knowing.”

“It will” he agreed. “But there’s nothing to it – even if I _can_ find something on her journal, which is _highly unlikely_ , since she used codes for everything she wanted to hide…  it won’t be enough. It’s not like I could follow her on CCTV to find out where she was, or if I could somehow reenact those minutes, I…” he sighed again. “It’s useless and pointless. I’ll never find out.”

“What if I help you?” the words were out of Arthur's mouth before he could even really think about them. “What if I try and get all those things – CCTV recordings, telephone bills, anything? We can look over things, we can… Maybe we’ll find something.”

Merlin turned to him, and Arthur took a great deal of care to keep his eyes on the road – he couldn’t face the man now, not without blushing for intruding on things that were none of his business in the first place.

“Why would you do that?” Merlin asked, awed.

“Why, Merlin” he answered, finding comfort in bantering. “We’re partners in crime now – or at least in dealing with Morgana’s secrets.” Arthur gave the man a small smile. “It’ll be just another day of work in the Merthur Detective Agency.”

Merlin laughed at his antics, and Arthur felt relief spread through him. He wouldn’t have known what to do with himself had Merlin refused his offer of help, even if he didn’t know how or why he had offered it in the first place. There were things that he _really_ rather not think about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the three final chapters is ready to go, but I'm still going over a couple scenes and revision, so I shall post it on the next few days but, unfortunately, not today. I am deeply sorry about it, but it will be solved soon.


	14. Blind Ends (16 Weeks P. M. D)

 

One thing that could never be said about Arthur Pendragon was that he didn’t keep his Word. Merlin had woken up in the following morning to a somewhat cheerful email from the prince saying that he had requested for CCTV recordings of that fateful day so they could find out where Morgana had been. Clearly, he also wasn’t one for postponing things.

Somehow, Arthur’s eagerness to help gave Merlin a new strength to face everything – it gave him something to focus on, something that he _wanted_ to do, not a chore. He could deal with dirty laundry and shopping much better when he knew he had something to wait for – even if it was a night spent drowned in his wife’s secrets, it was something he was doing for _himself_.

Every evening Arthur would call to have a word or two with Enmyria, and afterwards he’d speak to Merlin – somehow, he had expected him to ask someone, maybe Leon, to go over the tapes; but the prince confessed that it made him relax, somewhat, watching the images himself, turning time against its natural frame, everything going backwards. Slowly, the names of streets and turns were coming up, marking the last bits of earth that Morgana had touched.

It was a late Wednesday, almost a fortnight after their previous meeting that Merlin heard the doorbell ringing only to find himself face to face with the prince. Arthur was wearing a hoodie, which made him look much more conspicuous in such a warm spring night, and the smile upon his face was reminiscent of a teen sneaking out of the house past curfew. Leon wasn’t far behind, looking decidedly amused by the whole thing as he closed the car’s window.

“I think I have it” Arthur said before Merlin could even recover enough to greet him.

“What?” he asked, confused and bewildered.

“Let me in” insisted Arthur, and Merlin stepped back, allowing the man to come inside before closing the door softly.

“It’s almost one in the morning” Merlin was still shocked at the visit. “Em is asleep.”

Arthur nodded.

“And so she should, she has to be up early to get to school.”

Merlin considered pointing out that he, too, had to be up early to get all the children there, but decided against it. Whatever reason had brought Arthur in the middle of the night seemed to have made him too excited to notice simple things like sleep time.

“So, what do you think you have?” Merlin asked while Arthur walked around, eyeing the different rooms with clear curiosity.

“The recording that shows where Morgana was” he said, shaking a pendrive in his hands. “Where is your computer?”

“Upstairs” Merlin stammered, a bit annoyed at the intrusion, “in my bedroom.”

“Lead the way” Arthur said, gesturing towards the stairs, and Merlin just took a deep breath, climbing up the steps, being quickly followed by the other man. He felt overtly conscious about himself, his looks and his house – the way his bed was unmade and piles of journals were spread through his double bed, next to his computer.

Arthur sat, making himself at home at once and picking up the laptop; Merlin was only glad that he had been just checking Facebook and not looking for porn but Arthur didn’t seem to even consider that option as he gladly put his pendrive in the computer. Probably he never had thought of even watching porn online – it would be beneath him.

“Sit down” Arthur ordered, petting the space in bed next to him. “I’ll show you.”

It would be useless to point out how too familiar and awkward was that they were together half-sitting half-laying on a bed, so he just tried to act as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Soon enough he had shown Merlin a recording of Morgana parking the Fireblade and walking inside a bookshop. The image stood still for a long while, and Arthur pulled the cursor in order to get further on faster, until they saw Morgana storm out of the place and get on her bike, leaving towards her fate. The video ended as she got in the street, and Arthur let out a whoop.

“See? I found it. She was there for over an hour, and before that she had been coming from school. That’s where she went that day. I was worried that she had been going somewhere outside out regular grid, but it wasn’t so.”

Arthur was beaming as if he had found the cure for cancer, and Merlin felt his previous annoyance melting under his happy gaze.

“Good. It’s a shame we can’t see the name of the place – but that’s what Street View is for. Where is it?”

“Greenfield Road” Arthur replied as Merlin pulled the computer to his lap and typed the name. He pointed in the map which part of the street it the camera was in. Soon they found the said shop, the letters shining in an antique silver font.

“The Dark Tower?” Arthur asked, frowning. “That’s an ominous name.”

“We have a penchant for drama, I guess” Merlin replied, googling the shop’s name and entering the website.

“We?” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Magical kin” Merlin replied, his voice low and secretive. “It’s a safe house – a place where magical can seek shelter, as well as rare books and stuff like that.”

“In the middle of London?” questioned Arthur, amazed. “Like a real-life Leaky Cauldron?”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

“There are a few places like this around London” he confided, suddenly sure that he could trust Arthur with the full details. “But I would never have guessed that you read Harry Potter – your father tried and banished it a dozen times!”

Arthur just shrugged, still smiling.

“I’m not my father” he reminded Merlin once again. “I stand by him because I must, that doesn’t mean I always agree – and I have two children, Harry Potter is a must read for children.”

“Oooh, a rebel!” teased Merlin, skimming through the information on the site. “Not only you read it, but so did your children.”

“My father rules the country, but in my house, I am the one who rules how things must be” Arthur’s voice was firm, and Merlin turned to face him, surprised by the strength in his words. “And that’s how you know that Em will be safe – and you, and the children as well. Your secret is safe with me. Your lives are safe with me – I’ll never betray any of you.”

Merlin felt his throat tighten, and for a moment he could do nothing but stare at Arthur’s blue eyes and the powerful loyalty in them. He wasn’t like Uther at all – he wasn’t like anyone else he had ever met.

“We should go there tomorrow” Arthur said, breaking the eye contact and turning towards the screen, clearly unable to face the moment. “So we’d find out more about it.”

“Are you certified insane?” blurted out Merlin. “ _You_? Coming out to the shop? Now, apart from the possible media circus about you visiting anywhere unexpected, considering your father’s standing that’s a very good way for them _not_ to help us.”

Arthur shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t know – you have secret Diagon Alleys and such, would it be asking for much for polyjuice potion to be real as well?”

“A bit too much, yes” Merlin smiled. “We can do some _glamour_ charms, but nothing like Rowling’s magic.”

“It may be enough” Arthur said, and he seemed to be pleading to be allowed to go.

“It may not be _safe_ ” Merlin counteracted. “I’ll go by myself.”

“Fine” agreed Arthur, surly. “But can I have you bugged? So I’ll be nearby and be able to give you instructions and… Like Ethan Hunt?”

“You’ve watched too many spy movies” Merlin replied, shaking his head. “Who would have imagined?!”

Arthur laughed, and so did Merlin, feeling light for the first time in weeks.

“But can I?” he insisted, and Merlin just nodded.

“As you wish, your highness.” He beamed, and Arthur smiled, and for a moment it was enough to share the contentment that he felt right there.

“Ok, so, I should probably go” Arthur finally said, blushing a bit. It made Merlin more than a little confused, but the prince was nothing if not confusing. They were downstairs before he spoke again. “I’ll call you in the morning, so we can go there during lunch break.”

“Don’t you have things to do?” Merlin was honestly curious.

“As it happens, no, I don’t” Arthur shrugged. “So, tomorrow? At lunch time?”

“It’s a date” agreed Merlin, and Arthur visibly flinched, as he felt his own cheeks burning of embarrassment when he realized what he had said. “No, no! Not a date. Sorry. I mean…”

“I know what you mean” the prince agreed. “I’ll call you.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow” Merlin said, opening the door.

“Cheers” said Arthur, nodding awkwardly and leaving in a manner completely unlike the man that had barged inside his house and thrown himself upon his bed with no worries, ready to help him to find more about his wife’s secrets.

Still he had very little idea about what she had been doing there, apart from having something to do with a call from someone identified only as N. L. in her journal entries. One thing was quite clear from his readings, though: it hadn’t been some last minute thing, they had indeed scheduled it beforehand. The thought made him sick in the stomach. It didn’t really matter if N. L. was a man or a woman, if it had been a date or just a meeting between friends – it made very little difference. It had been a betrayal all the same. They had spent a whole life together, but now it seemed that it had been two lives that barely touched.

* * *

 

As soon as Merlin met Arthur on the following day, two things became crystal clear to him – the first one was that Arthur was overtly invested on spy movies from the ‘90’s, the second was that he was overtly invested in helping him finding out what Morgana had been doing. It was a bit strange – but when he tried to voice this thought as politely as possible, Arthur dismissed it quickly, saying that his life lacked mystery and emotion and wasn’t Merlin glad that he was using _him_ to get his fix instead of watching Mission: Impossible for the hundredth time?

There was, really, no arguing against such logic.

Still, it felt weird to come inside knowing that Arthur could hear everything he would say, or imagining that he would whisper on his ear at any given point although he was far away (not that he had _ever_ come close to whispering on Merlin’s actual ear, but that was path that led only to useless and inappropriate thoughts). It felt a bit like betrayal, to have his own kind watched from afar.

He trusted Arthur with his life, even more than that, he had trusted the safety of his children to his loyalty, to the commitment he had made to keep their secret, but it didn’t seem fair to force into others to trust him as he did, specially not knowing what he knew. He could have refused to take the microphone with him, but it was as if he could deny the prince nothing.

There had been a few changes in the front of the shop since the image had been taken for Google Maps. He could see that they had a new scheme of colours in the forefront, but the signboard looked much the same, as did the different antique books on display. He walked in, and it was impossible to mistake the distinct feeling of soothing magic that permeated the place, even if the whole decor was reminiscent of the dark ages and all its horrors.

There were a couple of costumers inside – a young woman, probably in her late teens or early twenties her was browsing through some volumes on Scottish History while a man some ten years older than Merlin was sitting comfortably in one corner going through a pile of poetry books.  Neither had any trace of magic around them. On the other hand, it seemed to shine out of the soft, older lady that set by the counter.

“How can I help you, dear?” she asked, smiling. She had a trusting face, open and honest. There was something incredibly maternal about her, and it made Merlin feel immediately at home.

“I was looking for someone” he said, making a small gesture with his hand – the one gesture all magical people learned as soon as they could be trusted with the secret.

“Of course you are” she agreed, answering the gesture. “Who is it?”

“My wife – my late wife –“ he corrected himself, with a small lump on his throat “was here just before she died. She spent almost two hours around before leaving. It’s been a while – it was on January, 28th.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss” she said, softly, grabbing his hand. Merlin could only nod. “And I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t help you – I was out during January, in my daughter’s house. Perhaps you’d like to ask the cafe boy?”

“Is it a good idea?” he asked her, knowing that she would understand the undertone in his question perfectly.

“It’s perfectly safe” she replied with a small smile. “He might help you to put all this to rest – come, it’s over here.”

The old woman led him to the cafe, in the back of the building. It was empty at that point of the day; very few people were scattered around the space, all of them seeming comfortable and totally immerse in their own business. The “cafe boy” turned out to be a college student, clearly with some magical gifts of his own. Unlike the woman, he didn’t inspire your immediate trust, but looked rather like a weasel. The tag in his clothes identified him as ‘Cedric’.

“Hello” said Merlin, trying to overcome his own anxiousness.

“Hello” he replied, deferentially.

“The lady said that you could help me” Merlin said, and the man raised his eyebrow for a moment.

“The lady?” he asked, confused. “Oh, you mean _Finna_!”

Merlin could do nothing but nod in agreement. It must be.

“Well, if you want coffee, food or refreshments, I’m your man” he said, with a small smile. “Now, for the rest...” he looked around before leaning towards Merlin and saying. “It’s not always safe to be the one with information, is it?”

“I don’t trust him” Arthur’s voice rang deep in his ear. It took all Merlin’s strength not to jump.

“I see” Merlin said, for the benefit of both man. “Well, I assure you, your secrets are safe with me.”

Cedric gave him an unpleasant smirk.

“I appreciate your words” he replied, “but a man needs to have his assurances...”

It was more than clear that he was expecting to get money for whatever information he had, but only a fool would pay in advance. And, deep down, he agreed with Arthur: he didn’t trust the man.

“How rude of me” he said, swiftly, with a big smile. “I didn’t introduce myself – I’m Merlin Emrys.”

The secret, hidden, dark part of him was elated to see the man’s shudder and his immediate deference – the way he unmistakably bowed to him. Merlin always hated to be notorious, he hated to carry the name of the family about whom legends were made, the secret name for power all through the magical community. The Emrys gift was almost mythological, and it gave him measure of respect that he wasn’t comfortable with – mostly because he had never felt he deserved it.

“Such an honor” Cedric’s whole demeanour changed, going from opportunistic to unctuous in a second. “Of course I will help – no one can be safer than in your hands, milord.”

“Milord?” echoed Arthur, confused. “What the...?”

“There’s no need for such terms” Merlin replied, stiffly. “I came to ask you about someone – a woman – I’m not sure if you’ve seen her, but it is of utmost importance that you tell me all you know. She was here for the last time on January, 28th – it was a Monday – she arrived around 11 AM and left a quarter past 1 PM.”

“Yes?” said Cedric. “Do you have a picture, or...?”

Merlin fished his phone out of his pocket and selected a whole folder with pictures of Morgana on her own. He handled the phone to Cedric.

“To the left” he said, gesturing the man to move through the images. “I’m not sure if she had come before, and she wouldn’t be alone – she was with someone...”

“Yes” agreed the man. “She was with another woman almost as pretty as she was – a bit younger, perhaps? Though... Maybe not. One would think they were sisters – the same dark hair and pale skin – I think the other woman’s eyes were blue? They came here a number of times during the winter.”

“A number of times?” repeated Merlin, and the man nodded.

“I’m sure of it – they freaked me out. They’d huddle in a corner and whisper for ages – but I don’t think I’ve ever seen either smile. And this other woman – she was a strong one; forceful; untamed.”

“So she was a witch?” muttered Merlin, and Cedric nodded franticly.

“I’m sure of it – and I’m not good at this, I’m actually...” he shrugged “I’m a failure as a... Anyway. Both were – both quite strong, but the other woman was... I don’t know. Different.”

“Any chance you know her name?” he asked, putting his phone back in. “Not the woman I showed you – the other one.”

“I think it was Lake” he said, shrugging. “But I’m not really sure. As I said, they whispered – and I would dare to eavesdrop.”

Everything about his demeanour said otherwise, and _that_ gave Merlin a good measure of just how much this other woman had scared him – enough for him to keep his distance even though he wanted nothing more than to overhear.

“Thank you” said Merlin, smoothly. “You were most helpful.”

“I’m here to serve” replied Cedric, with a fake cheerfully demeanour. “Do not hesitate to drop if you need to!”

“I surely will” Merlin agreed, before bidding him goodbye and leaving, glad that Finna was busy with a costumer – he was in no mood to talk.

Arthur picked up on his mood quickly enough, and he asked no questions save wondering if his name was a big thing among his people, to which Merlin gave nothing up a non-committal nod. They drove away in silence, Leon dropped him by the studio without any further comment – there would be enough time for it later. Not now, not when he had just found out that whatever it was, it had been going on for months without Morgana deeming it worth to share with him.

Whomever this mysterious woman was, she had taken his wife away from him – not because she had died while coming back from a meeting, but because she had led Morgana towards secrets and lies once again, after all the time it had taken him to make her actually trust him, to really be his partner and not just the woman he loved.

At least it gave him some of his inspiration back, if not in the way it used to be. He spread many journals over his bed and took pictures of it, trying to capture on camera Morgana’s elegant handwriting, the different bits of her life all together in ink and paper. It made for some beautiful shots. One thing led to the other, and soon he was clicking her belongings, some which were still in the exact place she left them, gathering dust. There were many images of his half-empty life echoing through the lenses of his art – painful, but also liberating. Once they had been captured, he could finally move them and let them breathe the air of a new life, albeit a broken one.

Merlin visited those places too, taking pictures of them – the warm world of spring spreading through the dark cold streets that had seen her for the last time. He wondered what on earth he was to do with all that, but always pushed his doubts away. It was pointless to think about the future, all of this was but a reminder that it might never come.

He wondered when he had stopped being someone Morgana could talk to about anything.

He wondered if he had ever really been such a person or if it had been just wistful thinking.

And then he hit himself, mentally, for doubting everything, only to start over again.

He wished there was someone he could speak to about it – about Morgana, and everything, their live and her secrets, but he surely couldn’t speak to Gaius about it. Morgause would understand, but he would never show her any vulnerability, he knew her well enough to know she’d use it to crush him should the opportunity ever arise, not to mention that she never accepted a word to be said against her sister. Gwen and Lance would hear him out, but they, as Will, had been acting as if he was about to break since Morgana’s death, and he didn’t want to prove them right.

There was no one he could talk to, none of the people that loved him so well could share his doubts – he was alone even surrounded by friends.

But maybe…

Maybe there was someone out there for him to talk to.

 

* * *

 

Arthur had just managed to get himself out of the shower and into his own clothes when his phone rang. He ran to get it, and felt a fresh wave of shame hit him as he saw it was Enmyria, calling from the secure line he had given her.

“Hey, Em” he said, picking it up. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, I was stuck in a meeting and...”

“Father?” her voice was tentative, uncertain.

“What’s happened?” Arthur asked, alarmed.

“I never heard you speaking like that before” she replied with a giggle. “So... casual.”

“Oh” he said, sitting down on his bed. “You never called before.”

“Yeah...” he heard the sound of something falling on the ground in the far end of the line. “I’m about to go to Sara’s” she informed him.

“Isn’t it late?” he asked, searching for the clock that was almost reaching 10 PM.

“It’s Friday” she reminded him with a sigh. “Anyway, it’s a slumber party, it’s supposed to be late – and I’m not eager to get there too early either, I _hate_ doing manicures – which might as well serve as my round today.”

That made him smile – they had a game of their own now, a way to make up for the lost time without rushing too much. Every day they would talk on the phone and apart from trivial stuff, they would always share something about themselves that the other didn’t know – a story, a detail, a preference – anything. It was their own thing, and it made him feel more like a proper parent to the girl he had just met, albeit in a strange way.

“I hate shaving, but I look absolutely ridiculous with a beard, so I have to endure it” he replied.

“I feel for you” she said, but she didn’t seem to be relaxed. “Listen... That’s not the real reason why I called.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure” she said, her voice sounding a bit off. “Da – I mean, Merlin – isn’t... He’s not _normal_.”

“Is he ever?” Arthur honestly didn’t think so. Em snorted, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Why are you saying so?”

“Kara drove the kids to grandparents for the weekend” she explained, clearly moving around the house. “And I was meant to be long gone – and he’s... He’s drinking by himself.”

“I gather that’s unusual” Arthur replied, frowning.

“He’s downed a whole bottle of scotch since they left” she added. “I don’t want to leave him alone like this, but I also don’t want to _stay_. I wanted to call Lance and Gwen, but he didn’t let me – he didn’t let me call you either, but I don’t know what else to do!”

“It’s fine. You should go to your party” Arthur soothed her, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to him and make sure he’s fine, okay?”

 “I’ll handle it to him and I’ll go, yeah?” was her reply. “Thank you, father.”

Her voice was indeed caring and softer than usual, she must have been honestly worried – well, Arthur was worried too. It didn’t sound like Merlin, drinking alone _or_ while there were kids in the house. He waited patiently while the two of them bickered for a few moments, before Em clearly left the house banging the door and making him flinch even on the other side of the line.

“What?” snapped Merlin.

“Good evening to you too” Arthur answered, even more confused. He hadn’t spoken to Merlin in two whole days, not since they had been to The Dark Tower, but he didn’t remember doing anything that would make the man speak to him like that.

“Em called you to rattle me” he complained. “You’ve won her allegiance!”

Arthur chuckled.

“As you always say, it’s not a dispute – anyway, she was worried about your sudden drinking habits.”

“She should have been out” the man mumbled. “I was sure she was out.”

“Well, you were wrong” was the only thing he could say. “Now, care to explain why are you trying to drink yourself to stupor?”

“You don’t need to worry” Merlin dismissed his question quickly. “I’m just... I just needed to relax, that’s all.”

“I don’t need to worry” Arthur agreed, taking a leaf of Merlin’s own book. “But I do anyway, so, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing” Merlin repeated. “I’m _fine_.”

“You didn’t let her call anyone...”

“... Because it’s nothing to worry about and Gwen is a mother hen!”

“... and that wouldn’t bother you if she didn’t have reason to worry.”

“How do you even know? You don’t know me!” Merlin snapped again, and Arthur sighed.

“Because, _Mer_ lin, you love Gwen and is always praising her to the skies, that’s why” he explained, as if he was talking to a ten-year-old.

“You’re a smug git” Merlin answered, with a loud sound that seemed to be his body hitting the mattress.

“Morgana always said so” he agreed, and that made Merlin huff.

“Morgana said a lot of things” he grunted. “Except what the hell she was playing at.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Arthur was honestly confused about the whole attitude Merlin was giving.

“Do you ever get the feeling that we didn’t know her at all?” Merlin asked, his voice high and agitated.

Arthur, honestly, couldn’t imagine that he _knew_ her after sixteen years apart, but he knew better than to remind Merlin that – if the man needed to vent, Arthur would hear.

“She was always saying what we should do, or what we were like, but she seems to have forgotten to say simple things, like _hey, I’m having a meeting with a mysterious stranger – how about that_?” he snorted. “But, of course not – of course! She was a true modern, independent, strong willed woman – she would never step so low as _explaining what she was doing_ , even if it cost her life!”

“Still, you loved her” Arthur reasoned. “You loved her in spite of it, or because of it – that’s not new. She was always like that.”

“I know” grunted Merlin, miserably. “It’s just... There’s so much I don’t know! It’s like... Half of her life seems to be a mystery wrapped in a riddle.”

“Is this a quote?” Arthur asked, idly.

“It’s possible” replied Merlin, before starting to rant once again. “I don’t know why she was meeting that woman, I don’t know why she felt that she had to hide it from me, I don’t know why she was so adamant about Em never finding out about you – honestly, she never even mentioned that you were acquainted, let alone friends – let alone _lovers_...”

“We weren’t lovers” objected Arthur, annoyed. It seemed very important to him that Merlin knew the truth of it. “It was just one night, I’ve told you – I didn’t think of her that way, and neither did she.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense” Merlin said, with a small hiccup. “If you didn’t think of each other that way, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“We were drunk” justified the prince.

“Being drunk may help to turn you on” the other man conceded. “But you must have thought about it – on some level. I mean, she was _gorgeous_.”

“She was” Arthur agreed, remembering her beautiful face.

“Any hot-blooded male would have wanted her” continued Merlin, and Arthur squirmed. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t feel lucky.”

“I felt... weird” Arthur said, with a shrug that Merlin would never see. “A bit lucky, yes, but mostly it felt _unreal_. I wouldn’t have pictured it – before. I wouldn’t have believed it to be possible.”

In truth, he had felt amazed and absolutely delighted that he had managed to bed her – not in so much because she was gorgeous but because she was, well, not the sort of person that turned him on.

“Why on Earth not?” Merlin questioned, seemingly annoyed. Arthur heard as he poured more whisky. “You’re gorgeous – absolutely hot – women all around must fawn over you, and Morgana was strange, but not _blind_.”

The comment made Arthur feel supremely uncomfortable while he felt in his stomach the sort of rush that comes from adrenaline.  His cheeks burned as he pictured Merlin, blushing from the drinks and grinning as he called Arthur _hot_ as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He cleared his throat, trying to push the thoughts away.

“It’s just... That was just not how our relationship was like.”

“So how did it happen?”

Arthur was unsure if it was a rhetorical question or a real one, but it didn’t really matter – not then – his mind was rushing back to that day, and the memories felt so clear, so vivid that he couldn’t stop his own words.

“At first, we were in a pub with some of our friends – a number of them. We were regulars, but it was a weekday, and they closed early. We were celebrating – I can’t really remember what, but we were all excited, happy, and very drunk but not ready to call it a night. I remember Morgana was all over that place that day – she was hitting on any and everyone, and I...” he sighed. “I must have been quite like that as well – it’s the tequila, it makes me loosen up more than a bit” Arthur chuckled. “So we all went back to mine with more booze – I don’t know how we started to play truth or dare...”

“Did they dare you to sleep with her?” Merlin seemed amused, and Arthur gasped.

“NO!” he said, forcefully.

“So what does it have to do with anything?” Merlin pressed on, and Arthur was only too ready to talk – to keep on speaking, to keep Merlin laughing.

“At some point, they dared us to make out – well, they dared _her_ to do some lap dance snogging with one of the guys, and she chose me. I guess she thought it would be safe.”

“Why would it be safe?”

There was no way Arthur could explain that to Merlin – he couldn’t just... Tell. He couldn’t talk about it.

“I don’t know – it’s Morgana. She chose me, and I had lost my shirt on a previous dare, so she came up to me, put my hands on her hips” Arthur heard Merlin taking a sharp intake of breath.”And started to run her fingertips through my arms, barely touching me – until they scolded her and ordered her to do it properly, -- so she put one leg to each side of me and lowered herself to do the actual lapdance.”

“What was she wearing?” Merlin asked, his voice seeming far away, somehow breathless. It made Arthur’s gut clench.

“She had a short blue dress on – that spaghetti thing over her shoulders, straps? – And a generous square cut . Oh, and heels – I remember the heels.”

“Gruhm” Merlin said, and Arthur heard some ruffling of fabric, clearly Merlin was back to his room. “And you were shirtless? With jeans?”

“Suit pants” corrected Arthur, feeling a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“You posh bastard” Merlin muttered. “And how was it – this lapdance?”

“Do you want me to explain?” Arthur asked, bewildered.

“Tell me every bit of that night” he pleaded, and Arthur couldn’t help but complying.

“She lowered herself, straddling me – the skirt of her dress came so high up that there was nothing between us but my pants. Then she ordered them to put on some music, so she could move in sync with it. I recall that as she started, she turned around and winked at the other guys, before pulling my head back through my hair and kissing me – straight on and with lots of tongue, like it was business.”

Arthur heard Merlin’s loud intake of breath, and he closed his own eyes, summoning back the memories of that night, wishing them to block out the reality of Merlin’s heavy breath.

“She danced like that for some seconds – moving her hips in circles, rubbing herself against me – before she stood again, rubbing her body against mine, against my face – my mouth was wet from kissing, but she dried it with her neck and shoulder blades, trusting my face into her low neckline. Then Morgana turned, so she’d face the rest of the group and kept on swaying on my lap, using her hands to make mine move through her body, feeling up her thighs, her hips, her waist, her breasts. She moved them around, and I let her, and she reclined against me, swinging to the music, her hips moving non-stop, pushing my head against her neck, kissing me forcefully – she was giving _them_ a show, not seducing me.”

“Weren’t you hard?” Merlin asked, his voice trembling.

“Of course – I’m not actually made of ice, you know?”

“I _do_ ” Merlin replied, his voice full of something Arthur couldn’t quite name. “Did it last long?”

“Some two or three minutes” estimated Arthur. “I was very glad it wasn’t longer.”

“Too close?” Merlin asked, and Arthur felt his cock twitch to his breathy tone.

“Yeah” agreed Arthur.

“So you two decided to take it further after the dare?”

“Not really” the prince said. “We kept on playing for some minutes more – she’d give me smouldering looks and I had never been so turned on in my life. Everyone was going to stay over, and we were _very_ drunk, so people just started to fall asleep and I... I decided that it would be better for me to take a cold shower.”

“Did it help?” he could hear Merlin’s heavy breathing, the sounds of fabric being moved and some friction.

“She followed me” Arthur confessed.

“She walked in?” Merlin asked his voice full of merriment. “You left the door open!”

“Yes?”

“So you _wanted_ to be walked in!”

“No!” Arthur replied, outraged at the implications. “I didn’t expect anyone to walk in the _en suite_ bathroom!”

 “Did I mention that you’re a posh bastard?”

“Twice, just in this conversation” the prince could feel a warmth spreading through his chest. “And, for the record, it was a very regular apartment, nothing fancy about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve already established that you know very little about what ‘regular’ really means.”

“I know an awful lot.”

“Keep telling yourself that. It might even become true.” Merlin was giggling. “So, she went inside...”

“The point is, she went inside, and I wasn’t expecting it and... it just happened.”

“She went inside and suddenly you were inside her?” The man was laughing at his own jokes, and Arthur could do barely anything but try and keep it light even if his heart was racing.

“This was a terrible pun – and, not quite like that.”

“And it was quite like what?” As Arthur didn’t say anything, he nagged him.“Don’t you want to tell me?”

“Erm... I... It’s not... It’s just...”

“Tell me what she did to you” he pleaded, and it made Arthur feel incredibly hot.  “I can see that she pretty much did everything.”

“Are you implying that I can’t, you know, take an action?”

“I’m not saying that” Merlin complained, still happy. “I’m saying... Look, I slept with her for twelve years. I know that when she wants – she wants. If you don’t... Well, she knew how to make you want it.”

“Yeah. Uh...”Arthur stammered. “Yeah, maybe. You’re right.”

“So, tell me what did she did do you?”

“You’re a bit of a masochist, aren’t you?” said Arthur, still trying to start a conversation that could only lead to him being forced to acknowledge certain... _things_ Merlin made him dream of when his mind got out of control.

“I married Morgana” was his only reply.

“Fair enough.”

Both of them laughed at their own silliness.

“But, that’s exactly the point – you married her, you love her. Do you really want to hear about her bedding some other guy?”

“It’s not bedding ‘some other guy’, it’s bedding _you_ ” Merlin reasoned, giggling. “And you’re the freaking Prince of Wales! Yeah, I wanna think about my wife banging the Prince of Wales. Will you share it with me?” after a pause, he continued, his voice going softer. “Was it good?”

“You know Morgana, what do you think?”

“I think she surprised you – I mean, I think you were expecting for surprises, but still she managed to surprise you.”

Arthur laughed, really laughed, his heart beating fast, looking for a new way out.

“Did she surprise you the first time you slept with her?”

“Surprised?” Merlin asked. “Not really – more like terrified. I thought she was going to eat me alive – and not in a good way.”

Arthur chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I thought the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah. She was all... _business_ , and I couldn’t believe it – I was like ‘what on earth is going on here?’ I thought she was teasing me.”

“She was probably teasing you” agreed Merlin.

“Yeah – I think she wanted to see how far it would go.”

“And how far did she get?”

“Oh – in for a penny, in for a pound!”

They both laughed at it.

“Maybe that’s what she hoped for”

“What? Sleeping with me? Getting Pregnant?”

“No, no, not _that_ part. I don’t think she really considered it a possibility – did you?”

“Ah, I wasn’t – I didn’t have much experience with women before Morgana.”

“Oh, with women?” teased Merlin. “What about men?”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin.”

He laughed and Arthur felt himself burning with embarrassment, at how close it was from his wishes – trust him to get ridiculously invested in a man he only knew because of how _much_ he liked _a woman_.

“I was down to my underwear, and she came inside and grabbed my... penis?”

“PENIS?” Merlin yelled, incensed. “Do you even know how to have a dirty talk? Penis! You don’t say _penis_ in a situation like this!”

“Why not? It’s what it’s called” said Arthur, feeling a bit silly.

“No! You say... prick, or cock, or dick or... I don’t know! Just don’t say ‘penis’ ever again, unless you are into some biology thing – is this a sex education class? I don’t think it is! It’s _me_ asking _you_ how you banged _my wife_. This is about _dirty_ , not about _biology_.”

“Ok, ok” he acceded. “So, she got a hold of my _prick_ though my underwear while I was standing there staring like she had gone crazy.”

“Oh my god!” Merlin shrieked, in a fit of laughter.

“What?”

“The way you say it – prick.”

“What’s wrong with the way I say it now?”

“You’re _so unbearably posh_!”

“Do you think so?” Arthur asked, in his best rich boy voice. “I’m talking dirty with you – on the phone – while you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, that’s just hot.”

“Hot?” Wondered Arthur, but the man didn’t fall for it.

“So, she picked up your prick” cut Merlin “and then?”

“Then I pulled her for a kiss, I think, not really sure” continued Arthur, it really would be better if them didn’t get into _that_ conversation. “I didn’t know what else to do.  And then we were crazily snogging and she was pulling me back to the bedroom – the door unlocked.”

“The door was unlocked?”

“All along, yeah”

“Kinky” said Merlin, approvingly, and it made Arthur feel like it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“We moved back to the bedroom, and she tumbled on to bed, and she was laughing and laughing and laughing – I remember her giggling about it more than anything else about that night. It was... contagious.”

“Yeah, and beautiful” sighed Merlin, longing.

“Yes” agreed Arthur, the image seared into his eyelids. “I don’t think I have ever seen her more beautiful.”

“You had never seen her in your bed.”

“That too – but that’s not the point – or maybe that’s part of the point. It doesn’t really matter.”

“Okay, so, what did you do? What did she do?”

“I was standing there, looking around, wondering what was really going on and she was like... ‘I’m going to make you remember that’, and...” Arthur’s voice faded, unsure of how to go on.

“Did she get your underwear down?”

“Yes”

“With her teeth?”

“How do you know?”

“Twelve years” Merlin reminded him. “And after that?”

“Well... After that...” it felt like crossing a line that he wasn’t sure he could cross something that he could never take back.

“She sucked you” completed Merlin, breathless, and combined with his words it made Arthur feel rock hard. “You can say that she did.”

“She did” Arthur agreed, still reticent.

“And _how_ did she do it?”

“You ask a lot of questions”

“I am a _very_ curious man” said Merlin, as a matter-of-factly. “Do you remember it? That night? Every detail?”

“Yes” said Arthur, cautiously. “I remember it very well.”

“Tell me how she sucked you” asked the man with a small sigh. Arthur had to fight against the urge of taking his cock in his hand, Merlin’s voice did things to him that he had never believed possible. He had always managed to keep calm, to keep control, to suppress those inappropriate feelings, but it seemed that he was spiralling out of control with each breath he heard. “Tell me how she used her tongue, her lips – how she drove you crazy. Tell me about her hands, Arthur.”

It was as if he was back in that day, completely out of control as he had been then, but there was no buzz of alcohol to dull his senses, just the sheer excitement brought by Merlin’s voice on the other side of the line – he couldn’t think about the consequences, about what it meant, he could only comply to his requests.

“She licked me first – around the head, and the length, before putting me in her mouth” he said, his own voice soft. Merlin let out a whimpering sound, and Arthur felt his pulse racing, his hands trembling, and he knew that even the few details he couldn’t remember he would make up for Merlin’s entertainment. “She put it all in, before pulling out slowly, stopping to suck just the tip, greedily. I thought I was going to come right then, but she...  I don’t know. She changed something, and it got easier.”

“What about her hands?” Merlin asked, and Arthur knew that that way laid danger and exposure, but he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could consider them.

“She was grabbing my backside – exploring it, with her fingers...”

“Did she circle your hole?” his voice was lazy and Arthur could distinctly hear the sounds of rumpled clothes, of flesh against flesh.

“Yes” he agreed, his throat constricted.

“And did she put her finger inside you?”

Arthur could only pant, and Merlin moaned at his lack of answer. It was more than Arthur could take, his hand flew straight to his own body, grabbing hard and desperately.

“One or more?” Merlin asked, short of breath.

“Two” confided Arthur, his hand moving too.

“Did you like it?”

“It was amazing” and while it had been, it was nothing compared to _this_ , to _now_.

“I feel jealous” Merlin said, and it was as if a bucket of cold water washing over him – his hand immediately stilled.

“I’ll stop” he offered, ashamed.

“Not of you” he quickly added, his voice deeper with desire. “Of _her_ – of _being able to_... I wish...”

“What?” pushed Arthur, his hands moving again – needy, frantic.

“I _always_ wanted to do _that_ with you” Merlin confessed, his voice almost gone. “To have you in my mouth, to feel _inside_ you...”

Arthur couldn’t fight back his moan, his hands moving faster.

“If I were a girl” Merlin asked, panting. “Would you let me? Would you fuck _me_ like you fucked her?”

“Yes” said Arthur, too far gone to care. “I’d fuck you into the mattress without a second thought.”

“If only...” the man whispered. “Oh, I’d ride you _so hard_.”

“Merlin” the prince warned, tense. “I’m...”

“It’s okay” soothed the other man. “I know... I’m doing it too, you know? Thinking about you and her, and you...”

Arthur was too far gone, he couldn’t hear it anymore, there was nothing, even Merlin’s voice was weak compared to the blood rushing on his ears as he came, strangling his cry of pleasure. And before the world could come back to where it was supposed to be, he heard Merlin’s sounds, his voice as he came as hard as Arthur had, panting and desperate.

He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do. The silence stretched forever, and he felt the heat colouring his cheeks. He couldn’t believed what he had just done – he couldn’t believed he had risked that much. Memories of leaked royal conversations came into his head, uncalled for, and he prayed for any god for him not to have outted himself in the worst way possible – with a scandalous news, and talking through his daughter’s phone, no less!

As time ticked, he started to become worried – and then he noticed that Merlin’s breath was calm and even – he had simply fallen asleep after all the drinking and the excitement. It was somehow even worse, worse than a shared embarrassed silence.

He would have to wait until tomorrow to deal with the consequences of his insane libido.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I said I would come back to it - ok, 2 months isn't SOON, but it is soon enough - and surely the following two chapters will come in right behind this, for they are MUCH easier to write (also, it is bigger and with actual Merthr, so, worth the wait, hopefully?)


	15. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire (16 Weeks P.M.D.)

Merlin woke up in the wee hours of the morning, with an urgent need to pee and a killer headache. He could feel the terrible taste of hangover on his mouth, and stickiness in his belly that reminded him of being a young boy once again. It took only a moment for everything to come back – the night, his drinking, Arthur’s voice on the phone and it makes him jump out of bed, scared and embarrassed at everything, guilty as he saw the incriminating evidence of Em’s phone on the bed. The man ran toward his bathroom and cleaned himself the best he could, cursing under his breath at his own foolishness.

He had ruined everything – possibly even more than his tentative friendship with Arthur, possibly even his relationship with Em – just because he couldn’t silence a stupid crush and…

Merlin couldn’t believe what he had actually done.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it now, apart from bringing back to bed a small water bottle and taking some medicine to prevent his hangover from getting even worse than it already was. Whatever fixing he could wish for would have to wait, it was still too early and the only thing he was fit for was going back to bed and trying to get some sleep.

Merlin woke up again to the sound of the third step cracking, but he kept his eyes shut – morning light wasn’t exactly what he wanted. It was probably Em, back from Sara’s place, and he wasn’t ready to face her after… But the door opened up and he knew he had very little choice but to face the consequences of his actions.

Arthur was standing at his door, staring at him.

For a few seconds, it was as if the whole world was in slow motion: he could see the prince blushing as he saw Merlin, the way his eyes ran through his body, laying on his right side and facing the door. He felt suddenly aware of his morning wood, which was probably visible through his sweat pants – and Arthur could see it, surely, and it made him even more embarrassed and uncomfortable than he had ever thought possible. But his body, his treasonous body, felt ridiculously turned on by the sight of Arthur’s blush deepening and his irises growing darker for a second as Merlin’s cock visibly twitched inside his pants.

The prince coughed and shook his head, and time was back in place – Merlin was absolutely confused, terrified, as he sat on his bed and put a pillow upon his lap.

“What are you doing here?” he said, his head spinning.

“I came to check on you” Arthur’s voice was subdued, and he was looking everywhere but at Merlin. “You drank a lot, and… I thought it was for the best if someone came around before Em – wouldn’t want her to find you on _that_ state and…” he stood straighter. “I asked her not to come until I say so, that I was seeing to your hangover – there’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

“How did you even get in?” was all he could say, more than a bit crept out.

“Kara lent me the house keys” Arthur said, with a shrug. “You should come while it’s still warm. It will do you good.”

The man gave him a forced smile and turned to leave. Merlin could only blink. This was worse – way worse than he had imagined. He could only hope that Arthur wasn’t about to exile him or worse. He stood up, making his way to the bathroom and opening up the water for a quick shower – there was no way he was coming downstairs reeking like whisky and sweat.

He tried to wish his cock back into softness, but his mind didn’t listen to him, showing him again and again Arthur standing on the door – he was wearing damn suit trousers, and Merlin would never look at _those_ the same way again – with a simple white t-shirt that emphasized his broad chest and shoulders. He shook his head, as if it would make the images go away, but everything it did was presenting him with Arthur’s partially open lips as he stared at Merlin, the adorable blushing in his cheeks, the dark lines of – could it be? – desire in his eyes. And his voice – it was all coming back, the way hoarse way he spoke on the previous nights and his moans as he came, so Merlin was reduced to jerking himself off in the shower as if he was once again a teenager – indeed, Arthur made him feel like a teen with a big, impossible crush.

It didn’t help to ease his conscience in the slightest – although it didn’t make it worse, either. What was some dreaming after the terrible, terrible things (truths) he had said on the previous night? Still, there was nothing to be done but face it – sooner rather than later. He picked up the first clean clothes he could find, knowing that he had already taken too much time to get downstairs.

Arthur was in the kitchen, standing like a statue and eyeing the table with distrust – as if it had done something mysterious that he couldn’t quite face, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in it except for a larger number of takeaway packages that surely hadn’t been there in the previous evening and probably were Arthur’s said breakfast.

“Sorry it took me so long” Merlin mumbled as he walked in, and the man turned to him with a stifled grin.

“Not at all” he replied, gesturing towards the table. “I brought some food, but I fear it isn’t warm anymore – I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“You don’t know how to warm things?” Merlin asked, without moving closer to the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous” Arthur snapped, “I know how to warm things, but I wasn’t going to go through your stuff to find the appropriate china.”

“You didn’t have any qualms with invading my house” Merlin replied, tilting his head “but were too much of a gentleman to go through my stuff?”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin” the prince sounded equally amused and annoyed. “I’m not _invading_ your house, I’m _rescuing_ you from embarrassment, hangover and food shortage.”

“I’m not sure that it isn’t still invading”

It was easier than he had imagined – keeping things light, their usual banter, as if nothing had happened.

“I bring you food, coffee and give you more hours to recover and you accuse me of being some sort of… maniac.”

Merlin laughed.

“I never said it wasn’t the good sort of maniac” he added, and there it was…

Arthur was smiling at him, truly smiling, not his public smile, but his personal, soft, amused one and Merlin was smiling back, his cheeks aching from the intensity of it. It had happened before, a few times – truly, almost every time they had met – but it felt different now, heavier, it made his heart race in ways it shouldn’t and he knew he could no longer act as if nothing had happened.

“Look, about last night…” he said, and Arthur’s eyes moved away from him, his grin disappearing. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright” Arthur stood straighter, as if he, too, was having trouble dealing with it. “You were sad, lonely and drunk – I shouldn’t have indulged you.”

“I was way out of line” Merlin knew that this sentence wasn’t even close to how terribly he had behaved. “The drinking is no excuse – nothing is. I shouldn’t have…”

“Nevermind” Arthur cut him, gesturing to the table. “I bet it’s still good, even if it isn’t warm.”

“Oh, I can fix that!”

Merlin walked towards the table and opened up the pots one by one to find scrambled eggs, baguettes, cheese, ham and jelly. There were also two big cups of coffee, clearly picked up at some fancy coffee shop. With a small gesture and a flash of his eyes, it was all warmed up again. He sat down, reaching for the baguette before turning to look at Arthur.

“I should get going” he prince said, quickly.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

The man moved his weight from one foot to the other, unsure.

“Do you want me to?”

“Are you daft or something?” Merlin asked, bewildered. “You brought me breakfast – hell, you brought enough food to feed all of the children – and now you’re leaving without eating?”

The man shrugged.

“I trespassed into your house for long enough.”

There it was – the break, how things would never be easy between them anymore – and Merlin had no one to blame but himself. Still, he couldn’t stop trying.

“Nonsense, just sit down.”

He was surprised to see Arthur acceding and sitting in front of him. With a flash of eyes, he warmed up the coffee and handled it to the prince, who looked surprised at seeing it was hot.

“How did you do that?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Magic” whispered Merlin with a grin.

Arthur took a sip of his beverage, and Merlin prepared his bread, both silent.

“It’s as if it had just come out of the machine” said Arthur, excited as a small child. “This is amazing.”

“It’s a petty trick” dismissed Merlin.

“Sure, it’s not flashy or anything, but it is handy” the man said, “I could use something like this – you’d be surprised at how often food on events isn’t warm enough or the drinks cool enough.”

It was hard to make small talk like that, it was so trivial and small to Merlin, but as he looked up he saw that Arthur was excited about it.

“What else can you do?” he asked, as if he was a little boy waiting for tricks. The venetian blinds were half-closed, and Merlin wished them to hide them from outside view. It came down with an abrupt noise, and Arthur, who had been staring at Merlin, turned around surprised.

“Was that you?” he asked, and Merlin nodded. He seemed so surprised that it made the man chuckle. “Show me more!”

It was impossible to say no when he looked so enthusiastic about it, so Merlin willed the forks to come from the drawer, floating towards them under Arthur’s excited grin. They cut the baguettes open, and soon enough they had sandwiches prepared without ever touching the food.

“How does that work?” Arthur asked, curious and eager. “What is it like?”

“It’s hard to explain” Merlin replied, shrugging. “It just… It’s just like when you move your arm or your leg – you think it and it’s happening – like an extra limb?”

“More like a whole extra body.”

Merlin chuckled and nodded, taking a bit out of his sandwich. While he ate, he kept on enchanting objects to dance, float or simply glow under Arthur’s excited looks and comments. Then, as he finished, he moved the whole thing out to the sink, but the prince was no longer looking at the objects, he was staring straight at Merlin.

“Do your eyes always glow like this? Golden?”

The man nodded, and Arthur stared some more.

“It happens to everyone?”

Merlin shrugged.

“With most people, yes” he agreed. “But there are some – magical things – that don’t do that.”

“What sort of things?” Arthur asked, curious.

“Like, mind to mind speaking?”

The man gasped.

“Is it really a thing? I thought it was just one of those weird ideas – like flying around on broomsticks.”

That made Merlin smile, and he stretched a bit before explaining.

“It _is_ a thing, but not a common one – some people have a hard time doing it, some people are natural. Mordred is _very good_ at it; actually, I think he speaks inside people’s heads more often than he actually _speaks_ with them.”

“But can you read minds?” Arthur asked, leaning towards the table.

“No – some people can feel intentions and moods, but that’s nothing like reading actual thoughts – that’s just myth.”

“Can you apparate?”

That made Merlin laugh out loud.

“I wish – I _really_ wish.”

“I know so little about magic” Arthur complained. “I wish I knew more.”

“You can ask as much as you want” Merlin guaranteed, “I’ll tell you as much as I know.”

“Do _you_ feel moods and intentions?” he asked, and Merlin moved his head from one side to the other.

“I’m not big on it” he confessed. “Morgana was a pro at this, which, really, was a blessing – the kids, too, are very good at it. It’s not a good thing either – it’s hard to control, to keep yourself apart; to separate what is _you_ and what is _other people_. Em is particularly sensitive, and she had a hard time with it – she still can’t fully control it. Mordred is growing into it too, and I’m worried – I don’t know what to do to help.”

“What about Kara” Arthur asked, frowning “is she… magical too?”

“Yes” Merlin agreed. “Most children from mixed couples are – and so is Kay.”

“How early can you tell?”

“It depends” he explained. “Some children will show it as soon as they are born, with others it takes a while. Kay has a penchant from starting fires out of the blue.”

“A dangerous gift” Arthur pointed out, and there was nothing for Merlin to do but nod.

“Kara was better at flying things – my mom says I was too, I started floating stuff as soon as I opened my eyes. Mordred was a telepath from birth, and Freya was clearly attuned to every mood swing in the house. Em brought her Dumbo mobile to life and Morgana found her playing with a flying toy Dumbo that made real elephant sounds when she was some six months old. Now, Tristan didn’t show signs until his first birthday, but we always _knew_ he was magical – it’s something we feel. Like… a different tune?”

Arthur nodded, deep in thought.

“So you all recognize each other” it was a statement, but Merlin answered anyway.

“Most of us, yes.”

“That’s good” Arthur said, suddenly. “It makes it easier to escape my father’s insane persecution.”

“We protect each other” agreed Merlin, and as Arthur smiled, he shrugged. “We’re kin.”

“You’re all a family.”

Merlin nodded, smiling back, and their gazes locked in a long, silent look. He could feel his heart beating faster once again, and it made him scared of his own sudden feelings, making him stand up. The chair fell with a noise, and Arthur stood up too.

“I should get going” Arthur said, his voice back to his pompous tone, as it would whenever he felt threatened.

“Thanks for breakfast” Merlin said, taking a step away from the table. “It was lovely.”

“No problem” said Arthur, smoothly. “We should do this some other time – minus the whole possible hangover bit.”

Merlin felt his neck and face heating with embarrassment, remembering exactly _what_ had led them to this moment. The same thing seemed to have come to Arthur’s mind, as he blushed as well – which was unfair, as it made him even more attractive, his eyes even more blue and his lips more defined – Merlin couldn’t help moistening his own lips with his tongue, unable to tear his eyes away until Arthur made a small, chocked sound that made Merlin’s eyes snap back to his and then it was insanity – he couldn’t say who had moved first, both stepping ahead and almost bumping, and in a flash Arthur’s mouth was on his, pressing and touching, caressing his lips.

 Merlin pressed back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, silencing the voices in his head that told him that it was a stupid, stupid thing to do; he owned it to himself to allow this for now – he knew he might regret whatever happened, but he also knew that he would never forgive himself if he stepped away when Arthur was kissing him; tongues and teeth, lips and breaths all intertwined as their own lives were.

Arthur’s arms were wrapped around his back, pulling him close and he could feel the hardness of the prince’s chest against his while they kissed, and he could do nothing but to through his own arms around the man’s shoulders holding him back. The kiss seemed to go on forever, never truly parting even when they moved a bit away, always a point of contact there. Merlin could feel himself trembling with anticipation, and he sighed as Arthur moved away from his mouth, rubbing his lower lip on his badly shaved jaw, scattering kissed through his neck, nibbling his ear.

He knew he was letting out small whimpers and moans, but he was too involved to mind – all he could care about was Arthur’s ragged breath and his growing erection jutting against Merlin’s hips. It was more intoxicating than even in his wildest dreams, being wrapped by Arthur’s arm, receiving coffee flavored kisses that seemed designed to drive him mad with want. He could no longer care about the insanity of it; he could only use his hands to explore the muscles of Arthur’s back, the softness of his golden hair, to pull his head back for another passionate kiss.

Arthur’s hands slipped under his shirt, caressing the small of his back and Merlin couldn’t disguise his shivers, it was as if his whole body had been electrified by the simple contact of their skins. He moaned into Arthur’s mouth as the prince palmed his spine, slowly moving up and down before grabbing his hips and pulling them even closer, allowing their erections to brush against each other and making the man groan against Merlin’s lips for a moment before he was pulling the shirt up, through the warlock’s head.

Merlin knew he wasn’t anywhere near as fit as Arthur, but he wasn’t scrawny as he had been as a youth; still, he felt incredibly self-aware when the man took a step back to look at him shirtless. Arthur grabbed his wrists forcefully and moved up at his own pace, feeling muscles and sinew, until he reached Merlin’s shoulders and pulled him back, lips crashing against his collarbone with hunger.

He didn’t lost any time, pulling Arthur’s shirt up as well, holding it so it would come out as Arthur’s kisses lowered through his chest and belly, until the prince was equally undressed, his body being kissed by the slight golden light that came through the shutter. He looked impossibly handsome, from the light lines that working out had left in his torso and abdomen to the small spread of golden hair he had spread through his chest and descending from his bellybutton, leading straight inside his pants, where Merlin could see a bulge that attracted his hand as if they were opposite sides of a magnet.

Arthur whimpered as Merlin got hold of him, and buried his face on the sorcerer’s neck, who took it as a chance to kiss and lick the skin of the man’s shoulder, biting it hard as he moved to open the other’s pants and get a proper hold of his prick. That made Arthur raise his head a little, moaning right inside Merlin’s ear, and he held it tighter in his hand, moving up and down a few times before deciding to indulge his fantasy.

As he stepped back, ready to kneel, Arthur pushed him away, pinning him against the table with his hands, breathing hard and for a terrifying moment, Merlin thought it had all gone to hell, but soon enough it became clear that both their minds had gone to the same place as Arthur fell on his knees in front of him, his hands trembling as he opened up Merlin’s trousers and freed his swollen cock.

The prince stopped for a second, just staring at it, before his eyes ran up through Merlin’s body until their gazes locked. Merlin had never felt as desirable as he did in that moment, seeing Arthur panting, his irises blown up by desire, his tongue moistening his slightly parted lips while everything stood still.

“Have you done that before?” Merlin whispered, equally aroused and worried.

“Not in a long time” he was close enough that his breath touched Merlin’s prick, and made him shiver. “You?”

“Same” he agreed, and there wasn’t time for anything else for Arthur was diving down into him, wrapping his lips around the tip of his cock and making him yelp, caressing it lightly with his tongue for a moment before letting it go and sweeping it around the head without any sort of finesse.

It was sloppy, but eager, and Merlin could feel his whole body shuddering as Arthur pulled the rest of his clothes away and leaned him even more upon the table. Merlin barely had time for a muttered spell before the prince’s tongue went down, south, circling his hole and delving into it while his big, firm hands took hold of his cock.

“I’ve always wanted to do that” confessed Arthur, pulling back and exchanging his mouth and hand’s places. Merlin whimpered as the first finger entered him, desperate for more, unable to speak. It had been so long…

But Arthur seemed to read him well, and soon he was inserting another one, and Merlin was trembling, moaning desperately as they reached the sensitive spot inside him, as Arthur kissed his way up his body, Merlin’s prick rubbing against the man’s neck and chest. The prince licked and bit his left nipple and the sorcerer could do nothing but pant.

As he managed to reach Merlin’s mouth and kiss him again, Arthur started to push a third finger in and his breath hitched. The prince was rubbing himself shamelessly against Merlin’s leg, and moved his head to reach his ear.

“Will you let me bend you into the table and fuck you?” he asked, his voice husky, before biting Merlin’s earlobe.

“Please” Merlin mumbled. “Please _do_.”

“Is that what you want?” Arthur seemed to love his breathless voice. “Is that what you _always wanted_?”

“Yes” Merlin hiccupped, and Arthur took his hand out of him and pulled him back up, kissing him deeply before grabbing his hips and turning him around before pushing him back upon the table. The warlock summoned some oil with his magic, and Arthur chuckled as he saw the bottle.

“Always ready, aren’t we?” he murmured, putting a generous amount in Merlin’s cheeks and on his own cock. “No condoms?”

“I’m clean – I’ve had no one since…” replied Merlin, looking back to Arthur through his lowered eyelashes for a moment before the prince moved to enter him and his face contorted in pleasure and pain.

It was quite clear that Arthur’s prick wasn’t as long as Merlin’s, but it was wider and it felt as if he was stretching far more than he was able to under the pressure. The prince clearly wasn’t used to it – he didn’t allow Merlin time to get used to it before he started pushing, making Merlin’s thighs bump against the table. It hurt, but it was also everything he wanted, and he didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want to…

“Will you ride me?” Arthur asked, his hot breath against Merlin’s spine, followed by licking. “I won’t last like that.”

“Your wish is my command” agreed the warlock, moving a chair to stand against Arthur’s legs and the prince wrapped his arm around his hips and brought him alongside as he sat down. It was just as well that Merlin was a tad taller than Arthur, for it allowed him to be steady on his feet. The man moaned, his fingers like iron as he held to Merlin’s thighs, and the sorcerer took a moment to straighten his back before he started swaying his hips, moving lazily in circular movements while Arthur whimpered and groaned under him.

Arthur’s lack of experience was clear as his hands moved, trying to pull him closer, hold him in ways that didn’t help. Merlin decided to take matters into his own hands – or rather, Arthur’s – and pulled the prince’s hand wrapping it around his cock, helping him to move it up and down.

“Yes, love, like this” he mumbled, inclining himself backwards. Arthur used it as an opportunity to once again attack his neck, and it made Merlin’s belly grow cold with anticipation as he moved up to capture his lips into a kiss.

It was fantastic to feel completely stuffed by Arthur, to feel his whole body – it didn’t seem real, but as some sort of dream that he would wake up from to an extremely weighty conscience. But, no, he wasn’t sleeping, and everything he hadn’t even dare to fantasize since actually meeting the man was coming through right in his kitchen in an early Saturday morning.

So he was picking up the pace and moving faster, more forcefully, dying to see Arthur completely lose control under him – to hear him moaning, to feel him shuddering in release, to make him feel things he had never felt before. And Arthur – Arthur was holding his waist, pushing him away, bending him back into the table and trusting madly, wildly, groaning against Merlin’s ear, grabbing his cock with vengeance – he thrust once, twice, and then he was coming undone, the sounds of his orgasm echoing through the room, his prick throbbing inside Merlin’s body, his cum leaking down through the sorcerer’s cheeks and down to his legs but it was heaven and he had never felt so satisfied without reaching an orgasm.

Merlin thought he would never feel more aroused than he did in that moment, as Arthur turned him around and kissed him fiercely, still leaking slowly, but that was before the man took half a step back and spoke again.

“Tell me, _Mer_ lin” he said, his posh accent marked and his tone mocking. “Do you know how to get on your knees?”

“You’ll have to teach me” he replied, coyly.

Arthur pushed him down, his knees bumping hard on the ground for a moment before Arthur’s cock was rubbing against his face, still hard and completely wet, the powerful scent of his orgasm turning Merlin on and he looked up daringly as he stuck his tongue out to swirl around the swollen head, tasting him, and Arthur was pulling closer. He didn’t fall for it, but took his time exploring the whole length with his tongue, not caring that he was getting moist because of his saliva, loving the feeling of Arthur in his mouth as he whimpered, and Merlin closed his eyes, finally taking him inside his mouth and sucking greedily, feeling some dirty pleasure as Arthur’s cum leaked out of his hole.

Soon his hands were roaming free, exploring the back of Arthur’s thighs, grabbing his buttocks, pressing against his tight hole; the prince moaned and Merlin felt his own cock twitch, hard past the point of desperation, but he didn’t want to think about it – not yet. As his first finger slipped in, Arthur staggered back, slipping out of Merlin’s mouth.

“I need something to hold to” he said, his face glowing red in embarrassment.

“I have a better idea” replied Merlin, standing up. He kissed Arthur fiercely, jutting against his hip, pushing him out of the kitchen.

They fumbled around as they climbed the steps, unable to let go of each other, trading kisses and bites, pulling and pushing, trying to feel each other as if the other would disappear if they let go – which it might be true, for the moment they stopped, that they _thought_ about it, it the world would come tumbling down on them – and they didn’t want to let go, not yet.

They wanted more, and more they had as Merlin pushed Arthur into the bed and straddled him, kissing him on the lips, roaming around with his tongue, biting his nipples, swirling around his bellybutton, kissing the junction between his legs and groins, licking and sucking his sack, the expanse of skin beneath it, around his hole, picking up some lube and coating his finger before pushing in, his lips coming back to wrap around the prince’s cock.

Arthur was panting, his legs spread wide, and it was a thing of beauty that Merlin couldn’t stop looking at him as he moved his fingers and lips, and the prince was also staring at him as if he was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. He moved around, putting one more finger inside, and kissing Arthur’s belly.

“Have you ever bottomed?” he asked, and Arthur gasped and nodded. “Can I top you? I… I…” he could barely speak with the sheer arousal in Arthur’s gaze. “I want to be inside you” he said, finally.

“Merlin” was all the answer he got, as he rose his hips, chasing Merlin’s fingers and the man was sure it was more than he could take, he thought he would come before he ever got inside.

He applied generous amounts of lube in himself and leaned in, locking his gaze with Arthur’s.

“Just tell me, and I’ll stop” he said, but Arthur was having none of that, pushing against him again, and ever so slowly, he leaned to start moving it.

It was heaven and hell at once – the warmth, the friction, the tightness of Arthur around him, the feeling of his glorious bum against Merlin’s hip, his half-hard cock laying on his belly as his pouty lips opened up, calling his name. He pushed, allowing himself to get deeper and feeling a surge of pleasure as Arthur’s groan signaled that he had reached the most sensitive spot inside him.

Merlin had never expected Arthur to be so into it, but the man wrapped his legs around his hips, pulling him close like some wanton woman, desperate to get more and the sorcerer was too far gone to care, moving faster in swift strokes until he was coming, the world was swirling and his throat was dry from the loud, desperate noises he was making. Merlin barely noticed he was shaking until he leaned upon Arthur, completely spent, and Arthur was shushing him and mumbling against his ear, saying soft, pretty words, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his cheekbones, his lips.

He barely managed to slide out of Arthur’s body, completely spent and mourning the loss of the warm embrace of his body, but the other man kept him close, wrapping him in his arms, and it was all sweet obliviousness and Merlin knew no more.

* * *

  


Arthur had no wish to wake, but there was this familiar sound nagging him and pulling him from the warm, comfortable place he was. He could feel the soreness in his body, specially his thighs. Merlin’s pointy knees were pressed against his calves, and his elbows had pushed his head to a horrid position. Arthur wondered for a split of a second if the man was fully made of angles – from the sharp cheekbones to the pointy toes – before recognizing the sound that had woke him up and freezing.

It was the Imperial March.

A.K.A the Darth Vader’s tune.

A.K.A. as the music Elena had set up as Uther’s personalized ringtone in all of their phones after she first saw A New Hope.

A.K.A. Duty Calls Music.

A.K.A. He was fucked.

(A.K.A. was something Em had taught him in one of their first phone conversations – Em. What had he been thinking? He was _naked_ and _dripping with cum_ in Merlin  & Morgana’s bed, AKA the bed of the only parents she had ever known, AKA bedding her dad, AKA he was _so fucked_ ).

He moved gently to free himself from Merlin’s embrace, trembling in fear and confusion. He had very little idea how much time had passed, and he felt terribly self-conscious that he was walking around naked at a house in which tons of children lived – one of them was his own – but nothing could be done about it since they hadn’t picked up their clothes from the kitchen when they dashed upstairs in a insane, hormonal run.

He searched around for his mobile, and found them still inside the pocket of his discarded trousers, vibrating madly at his hand. As expected, Uther’s face and name greeted him as he picked it up.

“Father” he said, as a hello.

“Arthur” Uther replied, his voice strained. “Where are you? The Turkish Ambassador and me have been waiting for you for over half an hour – this is unacceptable.”

“I am sorry, father” he said, his cheeks burning. “I came around to Enmyria’s and forgot about the time.”

“At Enmyria’s?” Uther hissed, “Do you expect me to believe that when the girl is _right here_ with Annis?”

Damn. He hadn’t expected her to be in the palace – he couldn’t possibly remember everyone’s appointments all the time. Elena & Sophia were spending the weekend at Balmoral, Arthur had completely forgot that Em was meant to have some extra lessons.

“I don’t care where you are” the King said, finally, his voice threatening. “It’s better if I don’t know – but I expect you to be here in fifteen minutes.”

Uther disconnected the call without another word, and Arthur _knew_ he was indeed mad. There was no way he was making it to Buckingham Palace in fifteen minutes – even forsaking all hygiene and skipping the mandatory shower – for it took at least 20 minutes to get from Merlin’s doorstep to the palace gates; that if the traffic helped – which was another miracle all by itself.

He didn’t even have the time to worry – didn’t have the time to wonder what would happen after this second folly of his – he only had the time to step inside his pants and trousers (at once) and putting his shirt back. He forsook his socks, putting them in his pocket as he slipped on his shoes and ran for the door, closing it lightly and putting the key where Kara had asked him to – no need to wake up Merlin with a rude slam.

As he got inside the car, Leon looked up at him with a worried expression.

“We’re late” the man said, tactfully not commenting on his disheveled looks.

“I know” moaned Arthur, reaching for his spare shirt in the back of the car. “I didn’t expect to take so long!”

“That was some breakfast” Leon said, pulling into the street and accelerating the car.

“Yeah” was all he could reply as he tried to change his shirt in a moving car and wondered how he had managed to make an even bigger mess than the one he had gone over to clean up in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on fire - writing non-stop. I'm sure I'll update again quite soon! I know it's an actually short chapter in spite of the word count, but I hope it's worth it. :)


	16. Threads and Truths (1st week of the rest of our lives)

 

Merlin woke up for the third time on that Day with the sound of the house door banging and Kara’s voice announcing her arrival. He looked around, equally crushed and delighted that Arthur was nowhere to be seen – the clock in the bedside table warned him that he had napped for a couple of hours and it was almost lunch time. He didn’t even reply to his eldest child, running to lock himself in the bathroom – he couldn’t face her in the state he was in, reeking of sex and sweat.

As he walked out of the bathroom, he found Kara sitting on his bed with a mischievous smile – which grew wider as she spotted him. To his utmost embarrassment, she was also holding up a bottle of lubricant that he had forgotten to hide in his rush to the shower.

“You got laid!” she piped up, as excited as if it had been her that had gotten lucky. “It was about time too!”

“Give me that” he said, taking the bottle from her hands.

Kara giggled, and he knew his face and neck had been tinged with red – he could feel his ears burning.

“No shame in shagging” his daughter continued, clearly amused. “It may still be too early for romance, but, well, it’s been too long a time to go without sex.”

“I’m not sixteen” was all he could reply.

“God, I hope you didn’t scare the prince with your nakedness” she was still laughing, clearly picturing it. “Oh, no, don’t tell me that he brought you breakfast and found you in bed with someone” Kara tilted her head, pensively “a bloke, I’m guessing, after all, it was a bottle.”

Merlin couldn’t reply – he was sure he had never wanted to smack her so much since she had shown up pregnant. He probably had never been so embarrassed, not even when she had walked in on him and Morgana in the middle of it – it was different, Morgana had been his wife and not… The freaking Prince of Wales.

And it might as well be that he had scared him into leaving without saying anything – surely it had been nothing but a sudden curiosity, a thirst, something he found himself ashamed to have done as soon as he got out of the lusty cloud that had clearly taken hold of them earlier in the morning. The image of Arthur under him made him feel a renewed flush of mortification, which was soon noticed by his daughter, who stood there, oblivious to his misdeeds.

“He did!” she shrieked, in a fit of laughter. “This must have been some awkward breakfast! Who was it?”

Merlin snapped out of his daze and looked at her sternly.

“It seems that you’re forgetting something important here” he said, is voice serious. “You’re my _daughter_. I’m not talking to you about this – not now, not ever.”

She pouted for a moment, before starting to laugh all over again and he decided to leave her to it – she must be enjoying making him feel ashamed of himself. It was something new, generally it was the parents that shamed their children. He walked out of the bedroom, and she soon followed.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked as she walked inside. Kara sat in the table, and as Merlin looked at the object, his face burned once again. The girl spotted it immediately and rose.

“Ew, ew!” She shook her head. “Dad, _really_?! The _table_?! How will I ever eat here again?!”

“Do you really think me and Morgana didn’t use it quite often?” he teased her, fully enjoying her disgusted face. “In fact, I think we made Tristan right… here” he said, tapping the left corner of the table.

“Ew, ew, okay, you win – we’re never, ever, ever again having a conversation about this sort of thing” she gave in, and he beamed. “I came in to bring Em’s outfit for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Merlin asked, his mind blank.

“The interview?” Kara’s voice was full of surprise at his lack of understanding. “When the prin– Arthur – will announce her existence to the whole of the nation?”

Merlin smacked his own forehead after hearing that – of course. It had been over a month since Arthur and Em had first met – over a month since he Arthur had stepped inside his office and turned his life upside down.

“Of course” he replied, smoothly.

“They have sent clothes for all of us” Kara said, gesturing towards the living room. “I picked them up as I dropped Em by for her final rehearsal on how it’s going.”

“We’re not going to appear on TV” Merlin said, and Kara giggled.

“No, but we _are_ going to the reunion in the palace after it” she reminded him.

“Oh.”

That was bound to be awkward.

* * *

 

Enmyria was in full state of nerves by the time Percival’s car stop in one of the side entrances to the studio where they were recording the interview that would change her life. Annis was waiting for them right inside the door, and greeted them warmly.

“Everything is going as planned” she announced to both Em and her stepfather. “His Royal Highness has already ready to go into the studio – now, Mr. Emrys, you’ll go inside the studio with Leon and Percival. George isn’t around, I don’t think your presence will be particularly noted – there are enough similarities between the two of you for them to allow you entrance with his pass. Now, Enmyria, we’ll join them when the lights are turned off and set only on their stage.”

“Can’t we just go inside right away?” she asked, tense.

Annis gave her a tight smile.

“I’m afraid not – your face tells your story too well, and we must wait for the perfect moment, remember?”

“Who’s presenting today?” Merlin questioned, following them closely.

“Peter Hunt” Annis replied, seeming amused. “The man is so sure he knows all there is to know about the royal family, I can hardly wait to see his face!”

Enmyria had never seen her look so relaxed, but it didn’t fool her – it was a critical moment – the one that would make her or break her – most likely both. As they closed the door into the room that had been set aside for their use, the whole flock of Annis’ employees came around her, pulling her to one place or another, setting up her hair, retouching her make-up, fixing imaginary things in her dress. It was more than a bit overwhelming, and Em didn’t even see when Merlin left with the two bodyguards.

“Is this really necessary?” she said, knowing the answer fully well.

“When you decided on staying, you knew it would be like this” Annis reminded her, her voice harsh.

“Being a princess? It’s totally overrated.” she confided to the girl fixing the bow in her satin belt, making her laugh – Drea was just a few years older than her, barely older than Kara, and the two of them had bonded naturally over the last month.

“You will be fine – more than fine, you’ll be perfect” reassured the girl with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’re right” she said.

Em straightened up her back and looked straight ahead, observing herself in the mirror. The image that greeted her was one of an almost regular teenager, albeit in a chiffon dress that almost reached her knees, with a delicate v cut that didn’t actually show any sort of cleavage. The fabric was bloody red; Pendragon Red, intense and it made her look paler, and her eyes look greener. The make-up had marked the lines in her face, hidden any imperfections, and she had never looked more like a princess – even if she would never have Sophia’s soft charms. The golden embroidery that marked her waistline made curls and half-curls that were mirrored in her artistically curled hair, let loose over her shoulders, covering much of the back that was supposed to be exposed by the dresses’ design.

For a moment Em just stood there, watching herself, before nodding towards Annis.

“I’m ready.”

There was no mistaking the pride in Annis face as she nodded back, streaming a line of orders in her intercom. There was nothing to do but wait, and time seemed to set still as the order for them to go didn’t come. Still, the clock said they had been inside the building for less than half an hour by the time Owain knocked and Annis allowed him in. The young man stuttered as he saw her, his eyes roaming through all of her and shining with appraisal – Em felt her own stomach grow cold at it, filled with a sense of power she had never felt before.

“You can go now” he said, finally, under Annis less-than-amused stare.

“Thank you, Owain, you may send Pellinor in and stand guard outside” Annis dictated, gesturing Enmyria forward “Follow me – the rest will come after you.”

She would never get used to being followed like that, but no one seemed to find it strange or to take notice of her even as she slipped inside the room behind Annis’ back. The assistant director nodded towards them and gestured them to the armchairs that had been left for their use, right behind the camera line. As Em took her seat, Merlin, who was next to her, squeezed her hand in a token of luck.

The prince – her father – was already comfortably set in his chair, seeming at ease with the world, talking and teasing with the crew as if it was just another day, another ordinary interview. Everything was set, Peter Hunt was sitting on the opposite chair, his impeccable suit that couldn’t quite meet the one that had been perfectly cut for the prince; the older man pushed his glasses up, tilted his head and gave his typical enigmatic smile as the last orders were shouted and the filming begun.

Em forgot her fear, her anxiety, her own position, the whole world zeroing on the conversation that was happening a few feet away as if she were watching it in her own living room.

“Good evening, your highness” the man said, his voice pleasant. “It’s an honor to have you with us tonight.”

“Thank you, Peter” the prince replied, his voice seeming warm – but Em could see that it was a mockery of how it would actually sound in private. This was a public persona, the one she had crashed right through on their first meeting. “It’s always a pleasure to be here.”

The older man gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before his face became serious.

“We were told that personal questions would be allowed” he said, tactfully. “Therefore, I think, what all of us want to know is… Well, there have been quite a number of leaks over the state of your marriage. Is that too sensitive a topic?”

“No. Indeed, I think it’s quite the point of this exercise – setting things straight on the matter.”

“It didn’t escape anyone’s notice Princess Vivian’s absence from the social scene in this Season. There was an official release about her taking some time to herself in Balmoral” the journalist continued. “The rumors are that the two of you filled in for divorce.”

“It isn’t a rumor” Arthur said, his voice firm. “We have started the procedures over the divorce over a month ago.”

Clearly, this wasn’t what the men had been expecting. His thin eyebrows rose for a moment, before he settled on the next question.

“This comes off as a surprise – the two of you always seemed quite a happy couple – where there specific reasons for this… change?”

The prince moved on his armchair, as if he were a bit uncomfortable.

“There were many and more reasons, but those are too personal, things that are impossible to explain to anyone that isn’t inside our relationship” he replied, eventually, his voice even. “Ultimately, I think the reason is that Vivian and I were never quite right for each other, and she deserved – we both deserved – better.”

“I see” the journalist said, taking a deep breath. “And how are Princess Sophia and Princess Elena taking it?”

“It’s never easy” Arthur gave a tiny shrug. “But I have no intention of pushing them away from their mother – whatever issues there were between us, the girls have nothing to do with them and shouldn’t suffer from it. Lady Vivian will be housed in Clarence House, and shall continue to enjoy full access to the children, as usual.”

“So, I take it that it was an amicable separation?” the man prodded, eager for more.

“As much as it could be” Arthur replied, smoothly. The underlining denial wasn’t missed by the man, but he didn’t press the point.

“So, you find yourself a single man once again” Hunt smiled. “I’m sure this news makes many women delighted all around the country.”

Arthur let out a laugh, albeit a bit forced one.

“Now, come off it, Peter, I’m not the golden boy Vivian married” he kept on beaming. “I’m almost forty – and time did make itself felt. I’m honestly more worried about the man that will come around my girls soon enough rather than focusing on my own love life.”

The man’s head tilted.

“Your love life has always been rather private. You were never willing to discuss the matter” he pointed out.

“Well – I’m willing now – I have no problems with talking about the past, it’s the speculation of the future that… unsettles me a bit. The last few days… It’s been a lot to take in – I’m not really sure about how things will be from now on.”

Her father shot them a sideways glance, and while Hunt followed his eyes to meet theirs, he didn’t seem to find any special reason for it.

“So there _is_ something to speculate about?” he insisted, and Arthur beamed.

“Isn’t there always?”

The journalist seemed to sense there was no way to get around this one, so he cleared his throat and tried another route.

“Your romance with Princess Vivian started back when you two were in college, right?”

“That’s right” agreed Arthur, smoothly. “We already knew each other, of course, but we didn’t start dating until my last year.”

“You got engaged in the following year.”

“I saw – my father saw – no point in waiting. I wasn’t the kind of man that has a series of girlfriends.”

“Indeed, she was your first girlfriend, right?” Peter asked, looking interested.

“I had dated a few times” Arthur replied, leveled. “But it was my first long time relationship, and public, yes.”

“There were some rumors back then” reminded the journalist “about a secret girlfriend – you _had_ a lady friend that you were quite close to…”

Her father smiled again, this time his smile was real and longing, as it would always be when her mother was concerned.

“Yes” confirmed Arthur. “The papers had a field day speculating around my relationship with Ms. LeFay.”

“Were there any truth in those speculations?”

“Morgana was very special to me” he said, sighing. “She was my dearest friend and closest companion until she graduated, a year ahead of me. We didn’t keep in touch after that – in fact, I didn’t hear a word about her until earlier this year.”

“And is this special friendship about to be rekindled?” asked the man, with a dubious smile that disappeared as soon as he saw the prince’s dark and closed expression.

“I’m afraid I misled you, Peter” his voice was firm, but the sorrow was clear in it. “It wasn’t Morgana herself that contacted me, but rather her father – Dr. Gaius used to be my grandmother’s physician and a good friend of the family – to inform me of her untimely death.”

“I am sorry to hear that” Hunt seemed sobered by the comment.

“So was I” replied Arthur. “One could say that the moment I decided to attend the funeral, I was also declaring the death of my relationship – Vivian and Morgana never liked each other, and my ex-wife didn’t take on well on me going to the service.”

“Was she jealous?” the man asked, eager once again.

“She told me to remember where I had made my commitments – and so I did. Morgana and I hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and I felt honor bound to pay my respects since I had never apologized for the way things had turned sour between us. She was special to me, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise, even for Vivian’s sake.”

“A hard decision to make” Hunt agreed, and Arthur nodded.

“Yes, there were some truths on the rumors” he spoke, replying to the earlier question. “But I was glad to learn, upon arriving there, that Morgana had lived a good life – married a good man” the prince looked straight upon Merlin and smiled “and had four wonderful children. She had been happy, and that gave me some peace in spite of the enormous sense of loss I felt, it eased my guilt.”

“It’s been a year of many losses to you” the man said, his voice quiet.

“Yes, but there have been many gains too” he said, looking over to them once again, a smile upon his face. “You see, for it was in Morgana’s funeral that I first met Enmyria.”

“Enmyria?” the man repeated, seeming interested.

“I met her there. She was there too, mourning, her face all red with crying – still I found her the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

That made Em blush and beam at him, even though his eyes were now fixed in the interviewer.

“So there _is_ a new lady in the scene” he said, delighted.

“You could say that” Arthur chuckled.

“And you two met in a funeral, you say? Your ex-girlfriend’s funeral, no less!” the man smiled. “It’s a rather curious place for love to start.”

The prince shook his head, smiled, and finally started talking again.

“I wouldn’t say it was love – not then – it was… Surprise, I think, and admiration. Love came later – about a month ago.”

Arthur glanced quickly at them, and she grinned harder at him.

“About the same time you decided to divorce?” the man was waiting for a confirmation of what would be a scandal, completely falling for Arthur’s bait and never realizing what it actually meant.

“The day after we decided, yes” confirmed the prince, passing his hand through his hair. “I’ve been planning on how to make this announcement ever since.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do – something the public might not take on well.”

“I hope they will” Arthur disagreed. “I feel confident that they will take Enmyria into their hearts as fast as I did.”

“It was quite fast” the man said, looking around as if he was waiting for someone to say it was a joke.

“Some things are just instinctual” Arthur smiled, and Em started to feel her nerves once again – it was almost time.

“So, can you tell us more about this mysterious Enmyria?”

“She’s still something of a mystery to me too” revealed the prince, his face eased into a smile. “But, as I said, we first met in Morgana’s final service. You see, Morgana and I hadn’t spoken to each other in sixteen years…”

“Are they related?” the man enquired, smiling.

“Oh, yes” Arthur’s voice was easy, with an underling amusement that showed he was ready to burst Hunt’s bubble. “Enmyria is her eldest daughter.”

Through the screens, Em saw the unguarded look of shock in the journalist’s face, and she heard him gasp audibly under her father’s continuous smile and Annis low chuckle.

“You see, Peter” Arthur went on, not waiting for another question. “When Morgana married, twelve?” he looked over for confirmation and corrected himself. “Thirteen years ago, she already had a daughter – in fact, she has had a daughter for the most part of that time.”

“Are you saying…?”

“What I’m saying, Peter, is that Morgana was carrying my child when we parted – and that I knew nothing about it for all those years. What I’m saying is that Enmyria is my daughter – and I fully recognize her as so.”

One of the cameras cursed, the journalist seemed frozen, Arthur was still beaming and, for the first time since they had met, Annis was honestly laughing.

Her secret was out.

* * *

 

Mordred always felt a bit disorientated when there were so many people around – too many emotions, too many feelings, too much to keep at bay. Ever since his face down with his aunt he had been particularly sensitive to such things which, according to his father and grandfather, were only natural – one of his many gifts.

Gift – it felt more like a curse.

He was able to feel Em’s arrival before she entered the ballroom, her nervous happiness swiping through him (it was always harder to block his siblings); he could also feel Freya’s glee on her surroundings, Tristan’s aloof boredom and something hot and confusing that came from Kara as she grinned and touched her hair while talking to Percy. His father was particularly hard – a mess of emotions that were carefully guarded under, but that were exposed in glimpses as he got more anxious. Luckily Aunt Morgause was doing everything in her power not to spread how bothered she was by all this, and his grandparents were all calm and contentment.

The rest was easy to notice even keeping his barriers up – King Uther’s unabashed pride on his sister’s, Prince Arthur’s euphoric excitement, his godparents sweet support, Will’s unending annoyance, Princess Sophia’s jealousy, Princess Elena’s curiosity and so on. A few of them were out of his understanding, out of his scope – he couldn’t quite figure out what was in Gwaine Orkney’s mind as he beamed at his father; or the expression on Lord Gorlois’ face as he walked in, accompanied by a sight that shook him to the core.

It was the woman again – the one that had come over to him and Enmyria at the funeral. Her hair had been carefully braided, unlike the wild mess it had been; her clothes were beautiful and traditional; wearing the blue and silver of Gorlois’ House instead of her blood red clothes. She seemed almost normal, but he knew immediately that it was the same person – there was something about her that reeked of danger and power, a distinct tang that he had first felt when she had appeared in her grandparent’s house.

As if sensing his recognition, the woman stared straight at him, her blue eyes seeming at the same time cold and amused – he kept his expression carefully blank, but, somehow, he knew she wasn’t fooled. The woman winked at him before curtseying to Uther – and going from him straight to Enmyria, whose smile fell at the sight of her, before shaking her head and introducing herself. Mordred felt something coiling around his sister – some sort of confusion, as if she couldn’t quite place where she had seen the woman before. The whole occasion of their first meeting rushed back to his mind at the sight of her.

The woman had known – all along, she had known about Enmyria’s parentage when no one had known. But how could she?

Mordred made a show of walking around before stopping next to Sophia – her batting eyelashes and little smile making him a bit uncomfortable.

“Who is that woman with Lord Gorlois?” he asked, and she seemed to glow with pleasure in having his attention.

“Oh, it’s his wife – his _new_ wife – Lady Nimueh” her face showed her disapproval. “But she’s a nobody – a commoner from nowhere – and extremely vulgar woman. She flirts her way into the parties, not even the King is spared.”

Mordred chuckled at her horrified expression, and shrugged.

“My mother was a nobody” he reminded her, softly, and she huffed.

“Yes, but they were _friends_ ” she replied, with a small shrug indicating she had no idea why. “Nimueh just came out of nowhere a couple months ago; she waltzed in here as if she had _any_ right to it and a month later they were married – if I didn’t know better, I would say he was enchanted – but the King accepted her, so, it can’t be it.”

“So no one knows where she came from?” he prodded, and Sophia shook her head.

“She says they met in a lake – just that, a lake, no name, can you believe it?” as he denied with a head movement, she continued. “She literally showed up here at his arm – and no one managed to make him explain how they met apart from the meeting in an unnamed lake.”

Mordred just nodded, lost in thought. Something was off, but he couldn’t figure out what – what he knew is that he couldn’t trust the woman, for some reason. He hated her on sight, on principle – she had dared to seem glad at his mother’s demise and it was something he could never forgive.

“Why do you ask?” Sophia nudged him, making him recoil as he felt her emotions flooding on to him.

“No reason” was his answer, but she didn’t look like she was buying it, so he decided to continue. “If we’ll have to be on these _things_ all the time now, it’s better to know who people are before making a fool of myself.”

“You could never make a fool of yourself” Sophia said, with a smile that seemed too old for her years, too adult for his liking.

“Let’s hope you’re right” it was all he could reply.

* * *

 

Merely an hour into the gathering, Arthur was accosted by Gaius & Alice, carrying a pale Mordred.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but we are leaving” the old man said, his voice low and secretive.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, a bit alarmed.

“Mordred is unwell” Alice replied, pulling the child close. “He’s going through some… hard things – he’s not ready for such an environment.”

“Hard things?” No one had said anything about Mordred being sick beforehand, there had been no clues – the boy seemed as normal as he could ever be (which, of course, wasn’t much) when they had arrived.

“He’s grown… sensible off lately” Gaius explained, with a move of his eyebrows that made it clear that the subject should not – and could not – be talked about openly. “Could you please warn Merlin about it? We’ll drive him back tomorrow, if he’s better – it will be good for him to be away from the city anyway.”

“I will tell him” agreed Arthur, readily, looking around. “Although I haven’t spoken to him today yet – he must be avoiding me now that I relieved him of Em – God knows where he got off to…”

He realized that the comment had been a mistake when he saw that Gaius was giving him a disapproving look, full with raised eyebrows that were feared by the whole of the family. There was no way that Gaius _knew_ anything about their last meeting, but still Arthur found himself blushing.

“I’m not saying…” he started, but Gaius eyebrows only rose higher. “It was a poor joke.”

“Indeed” the man agreed.

“I’ll find him and tell him, don’t worry” guaranteed the prince.

About the same time, Mordred swayed into place as if he was about to collapse, and Arthur’s instincts made him hold the boy standing faster than either of his grandparents moving. He opened up the eyes he had closed and stared right at the prince with his unnerving blue eyes.

“Tell him everything” Mordred said, his voice stronger than Arthur had been expecting. “Not only that I’m leaving, but how you feel too.”

“What?” Arthur had never felt more startled, he let go of the boy as if he could burn (probably he could, the prince considered, but that was not the problem now). Gaius’ eyebrows rose once again, looking at both and Alice tried to guide Mordred away, but the boy didn’t move, still staring at him.

“A blind man could see you’re in love with my dad” Mordred continued, as if he was talking about the weather. “And, probably, he’s too – so you should just tell him.”

Gaius’ eyebrows disappeared under his hair, while Alice seemed truly surprised, but Mordred just shrugged at them all.

“Or don’t – you grownups have a terrible need to complicate everything.”

Never, in his entire life, had Arthur wished so hard for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. This simply couldn’t be happening.

“I think it’s best if we leave” Alice spoke, her voice smooth. “Mordred is very unwell, and he’s confusing things…”

“I’m not” the boy grumbled, but now he allowed his grandmother to guide him away, while Gaius stayed behind.

“I’m awfully sorry about this” Gaius said, his disapproval of the scene carefully hidden in his voice, but his eyebrows still hadn’t appeared.

“No problem” Arthur replied, trying to reign his emotions and the knot that had been in his gut since Mordred first spoke. “I’ll let Merlin know.”

“Thank you” the old man did a small bow and walked away, leaving Arthur to deal with his thoughts.

He could remember now, something Merlin had said the previous day – that Morgana had been good at sensing feelings and emotions, that Mordred was now growing into it – that Em was good at such things… And if Mordred had seen it so clearly (Was he? Was that what being in love was like? All he knew is that he had never felt anything like it before, the pull, the need, the attraction that was far beyond physical… But, how could he? How… Merlin… It was not proper… No, Mordred must be mistaken – it was just some passing thing, a furious rush of curiosity…), could she have missed it? And if she didn’t, how long would that be until she did?

She might hate him for it – hate both of them for it. It wouldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. No, he would smolder whatever it was before losing her again. The sound of her laugh ringed through the hall, and he saw his three daughters, together, whispering and laughing over something. It filled his heart with love – he wouldn’t risk it for anything.

And he wouldn’t fool Merlin either – he’d be clear about it all, set things to right between them. Promptly he walked towards Leon.

“Have you seen Merlin?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. He couldn’t miss the look of worry in his friends face before he replied.

“Down the hall, in the balcony.” Arthur turned right away to go find him, but Leon’s soft voice stopped him. “Arthur” he looked back, and saw Leon’s sad expression. “He went there with Gwaine.”

There was nothing he could do but nod and walk over anyway – it didn’t matter that his mind was supplying him with images of the two man entangled, of Gwaine’s big hands holding Merlin’s slimmer body up close, of Merlin’s sinful mouth opening in a moan – he would block it away, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t – it just wasn’t a possibility to do anything about it, and it would be better if Merlin _was_ in the arms of someone else – if Arthur _knew_ for a _fact_ that it had never been more than a one night (day?) stand.

Still, when he saw the two of them – Merlin’s head resting on Gwaine’s shoulder while the man caressed his hair lightly – it was as if something inside him had broken, as if he didn’t know what to do or where to go. All the certainties he had crumbled at the sight of Merlin – _his Merlin –_ in the arms of somebody else. Everything he had thought seemed pointless – a waste of time and energy. He was just there, standing, in the middle of the hallway of his own house with no place to go – the pathetic man that he was, dreaming that someone like _Merlin_ would wish to be with someone like _him_ , that couldn’t even face the truth about himself.

Gwaine was the first to saw him, looking over Merlin’s bent head. The two of them stared at each other in silence, before the duke nodded and disentangled himself from Merlin. There was no way to pretend he hadn’t been searching for one of them – the hallway was meant to be closed off – so as much as he hated it, he had no way out but walking towards Merlin and giving Gaius advice. Merlin glanced to him, but looked away and to the gardens in a split of a second.

“Princess” Gwaine said, his voice careless as ever. “Fancy finding you here.”

“I was looking for Merlin” Arthur replied, his eyes on the man’s back, but Merlin didn’t acknowledge him in anyway.

“Right – I’m leaving” the duke seemed amused, and Arthur shook his head.

“I’m just passing a note from Gaius…”

He would keep his cool, he would explain about Mordred and walk away – put everything that had been in his mind away again, hidden, inside the small box he had created for such things and where from it should never have left.

“I’m leaving anyway” Gwaine insisted, giving him one of his open smiles. “Gotta pee, you see?”

Arthur could only gape at that, and Merlin snorted, his back still turned.

“Very subtle” the sorcerer said, and his voice seemed weird, nasal, but Gwaine was already too far gone. The prince spent a moment just looking at his slumped shoulders and bent head. “Are you going to give me the note or not?”

Merlin’s rash voice snapped Arthur out of his dazed state, and he stood straight.

“Gaius and Alice left with Mordred – he wasn’t feeling well – something about crowds…?”

The effect was immediate: Merlin turned around, his eyes wide with concern.

“What happened?” his voice ringed with alarm, and Arthur didn’t even realize he had moved until he was holding him steady through his shoulder, as Merlin’s head looked from one side to the other, hyperventilating.

“Everything is fine – everything is under control” he said, trying to calm the man down. “He didn’t put on any sort of show – he just looked exhausted – they’re taking him to the countryside to recover – it’s alright, they’ll take care of him.”

“I must go” Merlin started, but Arthur shook his head disagreeing.

“You can’t go now – you can’t – Em needs you here, _we_ need you here to show that we’re a united front…”

“Fat lot of good I am” the warlock replied, his voice heavy with self-deprecation “hiding away in balconies.”

“It gets overwhelming sometimes” smoothed Arthur, and Merlin snorted.

All the time, Merlin’s face had been in the dark, but his dark chuckle had moved it into the light and, for the first time, Arthur could see it properly – his red eyes and nose, the marks of tears in his face and, finally, he realized that his hand was damp where it held him.

“Were you crying?” he asked, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.

“Shut up” was the only response he got.

The silence stretched as Merlin hid his face again, fresh tears streaming down.

“What is up?”

“Nothing” lied the sorcerer, and Arthur crossed his arms.

“I know I’ve said that you’re a big girl, but you never cried over ‘nothing’.”

“You don’t know me that well” Merlin spit, his voice dangerous.

Arthur could only shake his head, disagreeing.

“What happened?” he asked, once again.

“ _You!_ ” Merlin answered, his voice angry and his fists hitting the prince’s chest in frustration. “ _You_ happened, and _everything_ became _a mess_!”

“Is this about Enmyria?” Arthur was shocked at his reaction, and even more when Merlin let his posture, so defiant a moment ago, drop and started laughing with no trace of humor.

“I wish” the man muttered, and the prince’s heart accelerated against his better judgment.

“Is this about… yesterday?” he asked, not daring to hope.

“You can’t even say it!” it was clear that the warlock was exasperated, and Arthur felt himself blush in shame. “You can’t face it – I know it was a mistake, but _hell_ , Arthur…”

“It wasn’t.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through, and it made Merlin stop his rant and look at him.

“What?”

Arthur took a deep breath – this was it – he couldn’t lie, not to Merlin that had trusted him with all of his secrets, not with this man that seemed to see the best in him, not with this man who had _seen_ him, truly _seen_ him, beneath all the masks and poses, smashed through his straight façade and lodged himself against all logic and reason inside his heart. How foolish he had been to believe he could lie to Merlin, that he could give it all up for the sake of the children, that he could go on pining, wasting away in a love – yes, Mordred had been right, a love – that had made his life brighter through the last few weeks.

“It wasn’t a mistake” he repeated, finally, looking Merlin in the eye. “Not for me, anyway. I wanted it – all of it.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to stay silent, just staring at him in disbelief. It was clear that he _hadn’t_ considered it to be a possibility. Arthur was uncomfortable, struggling to keep still under his scrutiny, but as the time grew longer and Merlin didn’t seem to snap out of it, his nerves got the best of him and he started to speak again, taking a step closer to Merlin.

“I never liked girls – I never liked women – but I always thought I _should_ – and I fought it, all those years, and then I met you and it was like… Like being a teenager again, unable to control my thoughts, unable to control my impulses, unable to shield myself and put myself away from what was, obviously, a dangerous situation – I _saw_ you and I _knew_ I wanted you – not sex, not then, because you were so broken and it would have been a perversion, but I knew I wanted to stand by you, to help you – that’s why I stayed behind against my better judgment. That’s why I decided to help, even knowing it was a slim chance that I’d be able to find Em’s dad. That’s why I picked up tapes and traced routes – because I wanted to be there for you. Sure, I _wanted_ you, too, but I was so sure that you didn’t…” Merlin snorted, and Arthur smiled. “I _wanted_ you so much that I couldn’t say no when you started talking about me and Morgana, and I _knew_ I had screwed up, so I went over with breakfast to make amends – one last moment before I pushed you away, because you were already _so close_ , _so fast_ and I was _scared_ – but I wanted you _more_ than I was scared, so I went for it – and I don’t regret it either; not a single second of it, even if it never happens again, because, for the first time in my life, I did what _I_ wanted instead of what I was expected to.”

He stopped, short of breath and ran his hand through his hair, unsure, but Merlin was shaking his head.

“What about Morgana?”

“I never admitted, but she knew – about me, she knew” he said, but Merlin was still shaking his head.

“What would she say, Arthur?”

Arthur could have sighed, but he was too exasperated for even that.

“What about her? Does that change anything? You love her – I love her – it’s still here. The thing is, Merlin… She isn’t. That’s the whole point of these last few months – she’s not here anymore. And if she were, I bet she’d be smiling and cheering and pointing and telling us to _make it work_.”

While it was something rather cheap to say, Arthur thought it was probably also the _right_ thing to say, what Merlin needed to hear. It didn’t matter – he was shaking his head in denial, and that had _not_ been the point.

“The last night…” Merlin started, before taking a deep breath. “The last night before she died, she picked up something of a fight with me, over you – I mean, not over _you_ you, because I didn’t know you – but over the _idea_ of you. She never wanted us to meet under any circumstances – she wanted me to promise I’d never meet you – I really doubt she’d be cheering this on.”

Arthur couldn’t help but take a sharp intake of breath – he hadn’t known, until then, that their last night had been controversial, not like this. It made everything make sense – the compulsive form Merlin questioned every single bit of their lives, the pain over things he could never truly put to rights because time had run out… So much like Arthur had felt himself, but probably much, much, much worse.

Still, it was, as so many had told Merlin, absolutely pointless.

“Well, that’s because Morgana was a selfish bitch” he said, finally, and shut Merlin with a gesture before he could argue. “I loved her, but she _was_ a selfish bitch. Look at all the crap she pulled on all of us – the secret over Em, running out on her parents, her mysterious dealings that we couldn’t quite unravel… She might not have meant _any harm_ , but harm was _done any way_. She thought she _always knew what was best for everyone_. And, honestly, no one can know – she’s rather like Morgause on that aspect, or my father. She was all over the place, trying to control _everything_. Why do you think she didn’t want us to meet?”

“I…” Merlin was biting his lower lip, looking away from him now. “I don’t know” he said, finally.

“I think it’s because she Saw this” Arthur said, gesturing between them. “And she didn’t want to lose you – she loved you too much to risk it happening. But now… Now she’s gone – and whatever she wanted you do promise, you found me _anyway_ … Can you honestly tell me you don’t feel it? This… ridiculous pull between us? Like… Like it was Fated or something?”

Merlin nodded, agreeing, but he still wouldn’t look at Arthur, so he did the only thing he could do – he touched the other man’s face, turning him towards him. His eyes were dark and full of questions.

“I never… I never even allowed myself to think…” Arthur shook his head “about something like this. But with you, I just can’t fight it. But if you don’t want to…”

Merlin made a small sound, something like a whimper.

“I do” he whispered, finally. “Gods, Arthur… I do want it – I think I never wanted _anything_ or _anyone_ that much… I just…” he shook his head again. “Have you even thought about the kids?”

“Well, Mordred, for one, will be delighted” deadpanned Arthur, with a small smile, while Merlin’s eyes seemed to swallow his face in surprise. “The damned kid called me out on being in love with you long before _I_ admitted it to myself.” Merlin gaped, and Arthur felt the urge to kiss his lips shut, but it wasn’t time yet. “I can’t see Tristan, Freya or Elena having a problem with it either” he continued, numbering them on his fingers. “Kara is too old and too caught up in her own romance with Percival to notice much or care” he continued, and that made the other man smile – they _were_ rather sweet. “Sophia would never presume to interfere upon my love life, she was raised too well for that…”

“Are you saying my children…” Merlin started, offended, only to be interrupted.

“Are perfectly normal people that haven’t been robotized into Vivian’s rules from the cradle” Arthur smiled. “And I am _absolutely sure_ that they want their father to be happy. Now, Em… I’m not sure about Em – she might hate us, or she might love it, or she might flip, but we’ll deal with her. Together. We can do this – _I_ can do _this_ if you are with me. One step at a time, sure, but still… With you, I can.”

Merlin gave him a smile, not his open faced grin, but something much smaller, much quieter, that belonged more in his eyes than to his mouth. It made Arthur’s heart flip in his ribcage.

“I come with a rather large package” Merlin said, still smiling. “A houseful of them.”

“I never thought otherwise” agreed Arthur, smiling too. “Luckily, I have more than enough space – and houses.”

“Together, we’ll have as many children as the VonTrapps” Merlin reminded him, and Arthur laughed.

“Good, we can do our own home version of ‘The Sound of Music’. I look forward to hearing you singing in the prairies.”

“I have more of the children” whined Merlin. “Why do _I_ get to be Julie Andrews? You’re the blond one.”

“I am also a handsome, mainly prince, while you are a dreamy musical thing” Arthur replied, with a smile, and Merlin pushed him away playfully.

“You’re such a prat!”

“You like it” he answered, with more confidence than he felt.

And Merlin was there, smiling, and it was so easy to just end that conversation once and for all, to actually _move_ towards the path he feared to thread his whole life, because it was _Merlin_ , and it was _right_ and _natural_ , as if _everything in his life_ had been taking him there, to that exact moments, where he moved himself towards not just a man, but The Man.

The very air seemed heavy between them, filled with the tension and anxiety that comes before a kiss, his lips tingling with anticipation, and Merlin was still smiling, also coming closer, until there was nothing to do but lean in to the kiss. The moment seemed to stretch forever, the space between them trimming with power – that would be magic, he guessed – Merlin’s eyes moving between his own and his mouth, licking his lips wet, and Arthur silenced a groan of desire and need as he finally tilted his head up to the kiss.

It was not a battle, not an explosion. It was a promise, a start. Merlin’s mouth was soft beneath his, lips capturing each other’s with light movements and a small pressure that was delicious in itself. He could spend his whole life kissing Merlin – and they hadn’t even opened their mouths. They didn’t need to – they were as exposed and as mixed as two people could be even if their only point of contact were their lips pressed together. It was heaven, as you see it when you have an almost death experience. It was enough, and it would never be enough.

They were no longer so young that they lost their composure, not so young that they forgot of everything and everyone in a rush to explore and feel everything about each other. Not so young that they thought they’d live forever as long as they did it all at once. They had time – time to do it right, to make every moment worth it instead of a run into pleasure that they wouldn’t have the time to savor.

It took some time before they broke apart. Merlin was beaming at him, and Arthur couldn’t hold his own grin. Slowly, they turned back towards the hall and everyone in it, their fingers touching as lightly as butterflies, getting intertwined of their own volition, much like their lives had.

It was just the beginning.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was such a ride! 
> 
> And, of course, there's still much to be explained, explored, and etc. I -do- have plans for a sequel (indeed, the plans would lead the story to a trilogy)/; but that must wait because I have BIG FLUFFY LOVING plans for Christmas Season & the Anniversary - something that doesn't sink us all in drama as last year.
> 
> I would like to thank each and everyone of you that has been around, commenting, sending kudos, not saying a word, etc - and of course, the lovely muppet that got us here to begin with. It was the time of my life - and I have no wish to stop.
> 
> The King isn't dead. Long Live the Merlin Fandom.


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